


A High Fantasy Planetos

by Blasta6000



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dwarves, Gen, Girl Jon, Girl Robb, Griffins, High Fantasy, Ice Dragons!!!, Lihzards, Sea Dragons, Squishers, We must build a canal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 49
Words: 114,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7758274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blasta6000/pseuds/Blasta6000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the continent of Northos, a girl dreams of winter, a father hides a deadly secret and a man longs for revenge.</p><p>On the continent of Westeros, a girl dreams of dragons, a queen fears for her legacy and a woman screams words long forgotten.</p><p>Far to the south, a maniac dreams of war.</p><p>Across the narrow sea, the last dragons and the Krakens long to punish those who exiled them.</p><p>And as always, the Gods continue to play their own games...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Joanna I

**Author's Note:**

> Updates when ever I can.
> 
> Cross-posted from Alternate History.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Review! (so I can know whether or not what I'm writing is crap)

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 1**

Joanna Snow

Bear Island, Off the Coast of Northos – 15th Minumfest, 299AC

 

Mormonts were certainly She-Bears.

I stood across from Dacey Mormont, eldest (and most dangerous) daughter of Maege Mormont, Lady of Bear Island. Like myself she was dressed in leather sparring armour, with the Mormont crest (a snarling black bear) embellished at the front. If we were in Winterfell I would have worn one with the Stark direwolf instead, but here I had just taken to borrowing a spare of Dacey's, which the woman had eventually just given to me to keep. With a cry Dacey sprung towards me with a large wooden training mace grasped in one hand which I barely blocked. Seeing a second strike coming from my left I was forced to roll out of the way to put some distance between us. Even if the training mace wouldn’t actually kill me it could damn well hurt, as the large number of bruises on my chest could confirm. Despite my best attempts I had yet to put on anywhere near as much muscle as the Mormont ladies which my father stated was probably carried down from my mother.

_Mother…_

It had been one of the few things my father had confirmed about her, along with her originating from somewhere within either Eastern or Western Dorne and being at least a minor noble. Many of the rumours and whispers in Winterfell when I was growing up suggested that my mother was Ashara Dayne of Starfall, whom my father had apparently had a short fling with during his travels in his youth.

Dacey took the opportunity provided by my distraction to sweep my legs out from under me and I planted face first in the dirt for the umpteenth time. As usual it tasted awful. Out of the corner of my eye I could see one of the guard’s wargs (a massive red boar) chuckling. Yes, boars can chuckle.

"You know, for a princess of Northos you do tend to get distracted a lot" Dacey stated as she grabbed a hand and pulled me to my feet, "Focus on me, not on whether or not the clouds look like wolves or dragons or ding-a-lings" She rapped me lightly on my forehead for good measure.

"I’m not that bad" I defended, "You just have a nasty swing with that bloody mace of yours". She laughed and held up her training mace, which unfortunately looked to have come out of our fight no worse for wear.

"If you think this is bad…" she started.

"I should let you take a swing at me with the iron one, I know." However dangerous Dacey could be with a training mace or admittedly with her bare hands, with her favourite steel mace (nicknamed Bearclaw after the Mormont ancestral sword) she was downright lethal. "Besides which, technically I'm not a princess".

Dacey responded to my self-deprecation my wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"You're as much a princess as any of your trueborn siblings, no matter what anyone says" She stated, "Cheer up, at least you’re still better at me with a bow". This admittedly was true, not even Robyn with her long range ice magic or Arya with her knives could beat me armed with my weirwood bow, a fifteenth nameday present. "You’ll make winter come early just by scowling."

We slowly walked over towards the armoury to the south of the main courtyard. Dacey was technically a legitimised bastard just as I was, born after her mother's affair with an unknown man. My father had legitimised her following Lady Maege's request, similar to how I had been around the age of six. I suspected my father had only waited as long as he had for Lady Catelyn's sake, though the woman had never shown any anger over my presence in Winterfell.

"The Otherbloods are my sister and her son" I jested, returning my mace to the rack, "Worry about them accidently causing eternal winter, not me" Dacey snorted but before she could reply we were interrupted by one of the bear guard, House Mormont's ancient order of bodyguards. The order was based upon that of the Wolf Guard, the soldiers of Winterfell personally chosen by the current King of Winter.

"Excuse me milady, Lady Maege has bid to see you in her solar." As a ward of Lady Maege, I could not in good faith refuse an order so bidding farewell to Dacey I gestured for the guard to lead on. I looked around briefly for my direwolf, Ghost but could not spot him anywhere.

_Probably off chasing rabbits._

Lady Mormont's solar was at the top of the center tower of Mormont Keep and as a result the most defended area in an already strong fort. While the Ironborn had never been a large problem on the Northern continent due to the presence of Frostwing (Northos's guardian ice dragon), Bear Island still had to worry abot the occasional wildling raid or pissed off tribe of giants. Even if the latter were vegetarians, they could still do immense damage to a castle's fortifications as the Umbers of Last Hearth would tell frequently (and loudly). Even though the Mormonts lived on a island, the threat of sea ice could cause it to be briefly connected to the mainland.

"Do you know why Lady Maege has asked to see me?" I askeed the guard as we entered the tower.

"I'm not sure of the exact reason milady, but I gather it's due to a letter" the guard replied. As we passed a window on the staircase I could see a view of the south of Bear Island. A large forest stretched from Mormont Keep all the way to the distant shoreline, except fot the moderate sized port the Mormont's had established to link them to the mainland. Reaching the door to Lady Maege's private rooms the guard gestured for me to enter. The solar was a medium sized room with many bookshelves and ornaments considered to be of significance by the current lady of Bear Island. Lady Maege herself, a heavily muscled steely haired woman sat behind a large oak desk reading a report. She had taken over as the ruler of the island, following her nephew's banishment to the Watch on charges of slavery. On the wall behind her hung a tapestry depicting the destruction of the Ironborn fleet in the war of Iron and Gold.

"You wished to speak to me my lady?" I asked to announce my presence.

"Yes Joanna" Lady Maege replied laying down the report, "I've recieved a letter from your father asking for you to return to Winterfell for the visit of King Robert." It was tradition that alternating every ten or so years (depending on the current season) the rulers of Northos and Westeros would visit each other's courts, so as to ensure the continuation of the close relationship between the two kingdoms.

"When am I expected to leave my lady?" The trip to Winterfell would take about three days by ship due to the need to go all the way around Flint's Isle. When the Children of the Forest had shattered the area formerly known as the Neck, there creating the great passage called the Slash; they had by accident split Flint Isle off from the mainland. Unfortunately the currents around the island were fierce, meaning that any ship had to take an extended trip, veering south towards Oldstones.

"As soon as possible" Lady Maege stated, "You'll stay for tonight and be able to catch a ship early tomorrow. I will give you a letter for the harbourmaster that will ensure your easy passage." I curtseyed gratefully - even if it looked a bit weird in leather sparring armour.

"Thank you, my lady" I replied, "If I do not get chance tomorrow I would just like to say how grateful I am for you agreeing to ward me here. I know many Houses would not be willing to ward a bastard, especially a Dornish one."

_Gods know that no southerners would be willing, even the Dornish with their loose grasp on chastity._

"When you've had as many affairs as I have, you don't give much thought towards what most people would want" said Maege, "Though granted, two of mine were sired by a god."

_But which one?_

"Even so, I do thank you my lady" I said, "I have enjoyed it here and I will be sad to leave." I would miss the Mormont children, though it would be good to see my own siblings though. Arya and Rickard are probably unrecognisable by now, as is Cregan I expect. Robyn's son had only been a babe when I left for Bear Island. "I'll go and pack if that's everything."

"That will be all, Joanna."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 17/10/16


	2. Eddard I

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 2**

Eddard Stark

The Howling Hill, Northos - 17th Minumfest, 299 AC

 

_As we sin, so do we suffer._

The deserter was already captured by the time the small party from Winterfell arrived. The man, nay the boy was tied to the Wierwood tree in the center of the old stone circle as tradition demanded. The Wolf Lord and the other Old Gods would allow nothing less. As I approached with my direwolf Rodrick by my side, the guards leaning on the shaft of their spears stood to attention.

"Where did you locate him?" I asked the senior guard Garren, a grey haired man who had seen many winters. The reports had first come in from the Umbers and it was assumed he would be heading south, hoping to seek passage out of Northos. He would have known that a deserter from the Winter's Watch would recieve no aid in my kingdom.

"West of Long Lake your grace" answered Garren, "the man had hidden himself in one of the old lookout towers for the night." The towers were ruins left over from when Northos was still a divided land, back before it was united under the grey crowned direwolf banner of House Stark some two thousand years ago.

"Did you encounter any of my daughter's men?" I asked. Robyn, as heir to the Winter Throne had taken over the running of Laketown soon after she turned fifteen. While I didn't expect her to be involved herself, as she would be preparing to make the trip to Winterfell for Robert's visit; any men of her's would likely have been ordered to assist in the hunt.

"We camped with a small group of them for one night, but as we were searching different areas they were not there when we caught the man." Satisfied by his answers, I approached the man himself.

"What is your name?" I demanded, for a lord should know the name of those he has to kill.

"Arnulf, your Grace" the man muttered, glaring up at me. Judging by his looks, I suspected that he had some Mountain Clan blood in him - though Northern, not Vale.

"Do you know why you have been sentenced to death?" I asked. He should, as the customs of the Watch were well known throughout the realm.

"I abandoned my post on the wall without permission from the Lord Commander or from you" Arnulf replied spitefully, "I didn't wish to spend the rest of my life trapped on a freezing cold slab of ice being constantly attacked by Wildlings."

"Any deserter of the Winter's Watch is sentenced to death" I reminded the man, "This punishment is not inflicted souly upon you. The Winter's Watch is for life"

"It's because of your kind their needs to be a Watch in the first place!" Arnulf shouted, "If your family weren't half-Other then the wildings wouldn't be constantly trying to get south to drive you to extinction." Behind me, Sansa and Brandon stiffened at the deserter's words as their direwolves and mine growled. Hopefully neither of them would be too affected by the allegations against their heritage as I and several other Starks were briefly during our youth. Lyanna in particular had been badly affected after an incident with a member of House Whitehill.

Deciding that the man had nothing more of import to say I gestured for Rodrick Cassel to bring forward the sword I required to carry out the execution. The Builder's sword was a massive skysteel greatsword passed down through the Stark line. It was better to use this sword rather than the Ice, which even now lay chained in the depths of the Winterfell crypts, only to be brought out when absolutely necessary.

"I, Eddard of the House Stark, King of Winter and Lord of Winterfell sentence you to die." With that I plunged the sword through the man's chest and into the tree. The man gurgled on his scream but quickly fell silent as blood poured from his wound and his mouth. The eyes of the tree seemed to glow red then, as the man's lifeblood poured around its roots. In the distance I heard a direwolf's howl, followed by a white raven's caw. The Old Gods were satisfied with the execution. Looking back at my children, Sansa nodded signaling she was fine and Brandon, after a moment did the same. He seemed unsettled by the execution of the man, or possibly what he had heard.

_It's only to be expected. He's barely 12._

_\----------------_

With the execution finished we began the short journey back to the City of Winterfell. Partway through the journey I signalled for Brandon to join me at the front of our party.

"Does what the man said bother you Brandon?" I asked. The boy nodded, his direwolf seeming to do the same.

"I don't understand why the Wildings hate us" he answered, "Surely they realise that the Long Night and the Cursed Marriage happened centuries ago?"

"All of us are of Northos, my son" I replied, "And Northos Remembers long after all others have forgotten. The Wildings are the furthest north of all of us except those who live beyond the cursed mountains. Perhaps they have as of yet been unable to forgive our house for some of the more terrible actions we have done over the centuries"

"But its not our fault!" he complained.

"No it isn't" I agreed, "But that doesn't mean that others will understand that. The important thing is not to blame yourself and not to care what anyone else believes."

A white raven flew overhead as we crossed over the rim of the next hill. The Great City of Winterfell, capital and centre of Northos came into view. Smoke rose from the thousands of houses that filled the city, along with the forges, the bakeries and the butchers that made up the heart of the Kingdom. In the rough centre of the city stood the true castle of Winterfell and birthplace of the Kings and Queens of Northos. The massive citadel rose above the rest of the city, towers standing strong and to attention even with the peacefulness of the land. The castle had originally been raised by Brandon the Builder himself, the first stones being lain shortly after the Long Night. Since then it had risen upwards and outwards, but always strong and secure.

_The Wildings are always a threat, after all._

As I passed under the bronze direwolves (each and every one a murder hole) marking the gate of Torrhen - the foremost entrance into the city - a horn sounded announcing the return of the King's party. The Wolfguard (who functioned as both House Stark's protectors and the city watch) formed up ranks on either side of the street to allow my party easy passage towards the citadel. The crowds cheered as myself, Sansa and Brandon rode up the eastern street. As expected of a king I waved and threw coins into the crowd. If they were older Sansa and Brandon would have done the same, but for now the two of them waved with wide smiles.

_It's just what the two of them need after seeing an execution._

At their King's generosity the crowd cheered in a voice loud enough to wake the ancient giants, "Long live King Eddard! Long live Queen Catelyn! Glory to the Starks!" Though there was some minor pressing against the wolfguards, most citizens of the city were content to happily cheer the passing of the party. I noted that the crowds were already gathered, though I was unsure of the cause. Ahead of us loomed the gatehouse of the fortress itself, the banner of House Stark flying proudly from above. As we passed beneath it into the courtyard beyond I could see the remaining members of House Stark waiting for our return. My wife Catelyn, formely of House Justman stood in the center of the gathering, flanked on her left by my daughter Arya and on her right by my youngest son Rickard. She was clutching Rickard's hand closely to presumably prevent him from running off and causing mischief. Standing of Arya's left however, was my oldest Robyn with her son Cregan tied in a wrap on her chest.

_I thought they weren't going to arrive for a day yet!_

"My lord husband" Catelyn said, repeating the traditional words of greeting, "Winterfell is yours."

"Thank you, my Love" I replied, "It is good to return home safely." That was all I got before Brandon jumped down from his horse and ran to embrace his sister.

"Rob!" he cried, "How did you get here?" Sansa was disembarking herself slightly more gracefully, but by the expression on her face I could tell she was just as eager.

"By riding dummy" Robyn replied smiling, "Look how you've grown! Soon you'll be bigger than I am." Brandon blushed.

"I'm not that big..." he said, "I just have...big bones!" Robyn and Sansa chuckled, the latter being pulled into a hug as well.

"It is good to see you Robyn" I said, "I hope the journey wasn't too bad?" While we were in summer at the moment, one could never be too wary of a sudden snowdrift or snowstorm.

"Perfectly fine father" she replied, "Cregan was very well behaved." I could see a scrap of the babe's reddish-brown hair, poking out of the wrap. "He fell asleep shortly before we arrived."

"He's tired as I expect we all are. I suggest we retire and then we can talk over dinner tonight."

 

**Extras 1**

**Family Tree of the Noble House of Stark, Rulers of Northos and Lords of Winterfell**

**  
Compiled in 299AC by Grand Maester Luwin**

 

  * King Rickard Stark 'the Defiant' (232-282) - Direwolf: Wander m. Queen Lyarra Stark (238-291) - Direwolf: Cake
  *    Prince Brandon Stark 'the Young Wolf' (262-282) - Direwolf: Aegon
  *    King Eddard Stark 'the Quiet Wolf' (B263) - Direwolf: Rodrick m. Queen Catelyn Stark (nee. Justman) (B264) - Direwolf: Brynden
  *       Princess of Long Lake Robyn Stark (B283) - Direwolf: Grey Wind m. Prince Consort Domeric Bolton (B281)
  *          Prince Cregan Stark (B299)
  *       Princess Sansa Stark (B286) - Direwolf: Adara
  *       Prince Brandon Stark (B289) - Direwolf: Winter
  *       Princess Arya Stark (B290) - Direwolf: Nymeria
  *       Prince Rickard Stark (B294) - Direwolf: Shaggydog
  *    w. Unknown Woman - possibly Ashara Dayne
  *       Lady Joanna Snow (B280) - Direwolf: Ghost
  *    Princess Lyanna Stark 'the She-wolf' (267-283) - Direwolf: Adara
  *    Prince Benjen Stark of Deepwood 'the Black Wolf' (B267) - Direwolf: Scrappy w. Val
  *       Lady Anna Stark (B294) - Direwolf - Jenny



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 17/10/16


	3. Arya I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where it gets weird...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 3**

Arya Stark

The Great City of Winterfell, Capital of Northos - 18th Minumfest, 299AC

 

The Great Hall was unusually quiet tonight. Of course, this was to be expected as everyone apart from my close family members had gone off to sleep by now, after bidding me a happy birthday of course. Rickard and Cregan had been put to bed, as had the direwolves (though the latter were asleep in their kennels). Myself, my parents and my older siblings were sat around a large circular table in the hall waiting for the Old God's messenger to arrive to lead me to the Godswood as was custom.

Unfortunately, the messenger was late.

"When will he arrive?" I asked my father. He smiled reasuringly.

"He'll arrive when he's ready Arya, don't worry" he replied, "The ancient laws dictate that gods can only appear when they need to, not when we would want them here." That was probably true but the messenger was taking forever!

"I heard a rumour that the gods deliberately wait until the last second to make sure you learn patience!" Brandon said. It was alright for him, his turn to be visited had come two years ago! Why couldn't I have been the older one? Mother tutted.

"Don't be silly Brandon, the Gods would not act in such a way." Robyn reached over and grasped a hand.

"Are you nervous?" she asked, red hair shining in the candlelight. All the Stark girls - well all except Joanna who looked Dornish apparently - took after my mother, Catelyn. I supposed that made us all look more like Riverlanders rather than Northerners.

"No" I frowned. My mother sent me a hard look for my tone but it was hardly my fault. It was like the rest of my siblings (except Rickard who was six) to baby me, especially Robyn who had been looking after the heir's keep over in Laketown and Joanna, before she had gone to ward on Bear Island. They treated me like I was still eight! I'm ten! Ten!

"I was nervous when I had my meeting" she divelged, apparently uncaring about my annoyance, "Terrified even. But you needn't worry Arya, the Wolf Lord wouldn't do anything to hurt you" The Wolf Lord was the Old God worshiped most heavily in Northos and featured throughout our tales and songs - alongside the Ice Dragon Frostwing of course. In the south, alongside the Seven, Mother Rhoyne and the Valyrian Pantheon the major Old Gods were the Storm King in the aptly named Stormlands, the Sea Queen in the Vale, the Stone God in the Westerlands and the Unnamed Spirit in the archipegio to the south. While all the gods formed one large pantheon, they preferred to stay independent of each other aside from when absolutely necessary such as with the Andal Massacre. All of them respected the old traditions however where guest right was unbreakable, harming a sacred place was an unforgivable crime and all children who were raised to believe in the Old Gods had to be visited on their tenth birthday to be given advice about their future. And now it was my turn.

_Or at least it will be when the bloody thing turns up!_

A direwolf's howl rang through the great hall, followed by another, and another. Soon the castle dogs were barking and howling alongside them, making the castle seem to shake with their cries. Frost gathered on the windows of the hall as the candles spluttered, then glowed brighter than before with a fierce green light. A raven clawed in the distance - once, twice, three times. My siblings and parents as one looked to the door leading into the hall. With a crash of thunder the doors sprang apart and standing between them, was an enormous white direwolf. The direwolf advanced on the table slowly, padding on large clawed feet. As it got closer I could see one of its eyes had been torn out while the other shined with bright red light.

And the still working eye was fixed upon me.

Reaching the table the Direwolf stared at me for a moment longer, then spoke in a deep, solemn voice.

"Follow"

\----------------

The Direwolf led me towards the Godswood at the heart of Winterfell. Oddly enough even for this hour, we didn't meet a single person or animal. Even the great owls known to roost in the Godswood seemed to be completely absent. In the halflight brought by the moon the many wierwoods seemed to glow with a cold light. As we went further into the godswood the wind itself seemed to die off, leaving me with only the soft padding of the one-eyed direwolf for company.

_I wish I could have brought Nymeria with me._

As we entered the center clearing I saw a tall brown haired man standing before the heart tree of Winterfell. He wore ancient leather armour, designed in a style unfamiliar to me. Attached to his back was a massive battleaxe with a miriad of First Men runes carved into its service. Quietly, the direwolf padded up to the man and pressed its head into one of his hands. With that action the man turned around and looked upon me.

"I'm sorry if you thought I was taking forever on purpose" said the man, amusement in his grey eyes. "I'll have to rearrange my schedule for next time, maybe do this in the middle of the day rather than the evening." I blushed red.

"I wasn't really annoyed" I muttered.

"I know" replied the man smiling carmly, "but be aware that others will not Arya Stark."

"Is that a warning?" I asked, "they say you can see the future."

"Occasionally. It depends on...certain factors. Maybe the weathers off, or Frostwing is throwing a tantram." The direwolf chuckled.

"You are the Wolf Lord then" The man nodded. "I know how this works." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, do you?" he asked, sounding amused.

"You show me a bunch of strange visions, make cryptic remarks about the future and occasionally make threats to disembowl people with their own spleens." He blinked, then looked quite offended.

"That's entirely..." The direwolf barked, causing the Wolf Lord to turn to it looking offended. "Shut up One-Eye, that's not how this works and you know it." The direwolf gave him a look. "It isn't!"

"Shall I recall Brandon Stark's visit?" asked One-Eye.

_My brother?_

"Your uncle" replied the Wolf Lord (even though I hadn't spoken out loud), "Even if the rest is true, I do not threaten people...that much." He clapped his hands and turned back to me. "Well then, are you ready to proceed?" I nodded determinly.

_Nothing he could show me would scare me!_

"You'll be surprised" he remarked as if in reply to my thoughts, before stepping away and vanishing into a blizzard.

In an instant the godswood vanished, leaving me surrounded by nothing but darkness. Out of the darkness I heard whispers of things the may have once been words, but were now impossible for humans to understand. Then out of the darkness came the Wolf Lord's voice, but deeper now, with the undertone of a growl.

"The Future is built upon the Past, young one" the voice said, "Forget the past and the future will forever be out of your reach." Then I was falling, or at least I felt as if I was falling because I couldn't see anything. Out of the darkness came more whispers, but now they had reason behind them.

A female voice muttered "We were born together."

A childs voice roared "I am the King!"

An older man, "The Iron throne belongs to the strongest side."

A young woman, "Let them fight. We will rule the ashes."

Screams started to echo out of the darkness, crying out with loss, with pain and with fury.

Another man, harsh and bitter "I remember, even if others forget."

A cackle, "Let the greenlanders drown under our might!"

Then came the voice of a young woman which I could swear was familiar "Arya...please..."

And then I heard the earsplitting roar of a dragon followed by another and another until they had fused into the fury of a thousand gods tearing each other apart.

And then suddenly, I was out of the darkness. On all fours I surveyed the room I had found myself in. The room was arranged as a young girl's bedroom with a vanity table and a screen for changing. On one wall hung a large tapestry depicting two large fleets clashing while in the background a massive underwater beast engaged in combat with a dragon covered by dark storm clouds. I had read about this battle.

"The War of Iron and Gold" I muttered as I pulled myself of the carpeted floor and walked closer to the tapestry. A sound from outside the room diverted my attention. Crouched next to the door was a young woman, presumably the inhabitant of the room. She had brown hair and was wearing a plain purple dress. She appeared to be attempting to listen to a conversation that I could dimly hear from outside the door. I silently crept closer.

"Her father was mad." shouted a voice outside, "Her brothers were mad! Why should she be any different?"

_Who was she?_

As I took a final step forward, the door seemed to vanish and for an instant I could see the silloutte of a two men, one with a glowing purple arm. Then the room seemed to twist and bend in a sudden wind until I was in a different place altogether. This room was a large hall garnished with the banners of a sun and a spear, House Martell if I remembered correctly. A throne stood at the alternate end of the hall to me but before I could walk towards it a herald from outside opened the great doors of the hall.

"Presenting Lady Joanna Snow of Winterfell" announced a herald.

_Joanna? Why would she be in Sunspear?_

I ran forward to see my sister, but instead of her was a red dragon, looming behind the doors. Before I had a chance to do anything the dragon roared and eveloped me with a stream of fire. To my shock however, the fire did not burn me and instead cleared away to reveal another hall - but this one lay in shadow. I could dimly hear sobbing coming from ahead. The windows of the hall had been smashed and around me on the floor the tables and chairs lay in pieces. I saw ice growing across the rafters above as a freezing wind, carrying with the scent of decay swept through the ruins.

"Mother?" a woman's voice called, "Mother?" At the end of the hall stood a figure with its back to me. I could tell it was a woman but...the features blurred and glowed with blue light. The hair of the woman was white and her pale gown was covered in blood, particularly from between the woman's legs. "Don't leave me..." Then I was in darkness again and the Wolf Lord was speaking once more.

"See what lies before you child" he said, "If you can know the future perhaps it is possible to prevent it." A myriad of images seemed to flash before me then. A graveyard of ice. A burning castle on a black island. A massive fleet at harbour. A dark mass moving underwater. A stag burning away to reveal a dragon. A sword of white being grasped by a gauntlet. An army advancing on a wall of ice. Three dragons clashing above a enormous black ruin. And then I was back in the godswood.

"What were those things?" I demanded.

"Shades of possible futures" replied the Wolf Lord, "It is not yet certain that they will come, but time is running out." For a second I could see the weight of a thousand years behind his eyes. He reached into a pocket in his breeches and pulled out a white wooded bracelet, carved with more runes of the first men. "Do you know the properties of a wierwood bracelet?" I shook my head. "Once placed upon a person's wrist, this will prevent that person from using any magic whatsoever - even if not to do so would kill them." He handed it to me. "I think this will prove useful for you Arya Stark. Useful in the wars that are coming."

"Let us hope you know what to do when the time comes."

 

**Extras 2:**

**Excerpt from 'A Short Guide to the Gods of Westeros, Northos and Essos' by Historian Wyman  
**

**The Pantheon of the Old Gods:**

The Old Gods are one of the oldest known pantheons of gods with even the youngest of them predating the Andal Invasion and the Rise of the Seven in prominence. They are widespread throughout Westeros and Northos and feature in many of the ancient legends of the continent. Here follows a short summary of the known Gods.

  * The Wolf Lord: the primary God of Northos, this god receives worship through the godswood. His companions are the direwolf One-Eye and the raven White.
  * The Storm King: Primary God of the Stormlands, this God recieves worship through the shards of skysteel that appear throughout Westeros. His companion is the stag Argo.
  * The Sea Queen: Once the primary God in the Vale and the Riverlands this goddess was hit hardest by the Andal Invasion and only retains a significant presence in the Vale. She is worshipped through mountain shrines. Her companion is the dolphin Ecco.
  * The Stone God is the primary God of the Dwarven Race. He is worshipped in the taverns. His companions are the goat Blunt-tooth and the rat Whispers.
  * The Spirit is the primary God in the archipelago of Koridoran. It is worshipped through the spirit fountains.
  * Frostwing: Disputed as whether or not he is a member of the pantheon in his own right, Frostwing is the eternal guardian of the shores of Northos.
  * The Voice of Winter: an unconfirmed member.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 18/10/16


	4. Rodrick I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is shattered, can be reforged...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 4**

Rodrick Harlaw

Ten Towers, New Capital of the Iron Islands - 13th Minumfest, 299AC

 

There was another dead man lying in the harbour that morning.

As I walked closer to the corpse I could see that this one's face was stretched in a silent scream and his torso...Gods. A multitude of large slices were carved into the bare flesh, crisscrossing the man's front and back. The eyes of the man had been torn out, with the flesh around them being ripped and shredded. The worst thing was I recognised the man dimly. He had been one of the new harbour masters I had installed in an attempt to begin fixing the damage that had been done to the islands after the last rebellion. The man had been happy with his lot, content to not stray from his rock wife, making time for his children - which of course made him a target for those unhappy with my actions.

"The attacker was clearly a Merling" I announced, "Only they have claws capable of doing this sort of damage to a man." A gasp went through the crowd at that and I could hear the start of some mutterings about vengance. If nothing was done then a few more people and merlings would doubtless be rendered as corpses. The situation in the islands was already bad enough without that happening. "Donnel" I said, motioning to my trusted servant "Contact our divers and see if they can communicate with the Merling community to discover who was responsible."

"Yes milord" Donnel replied and rushed off. Doubtless the man would find some 'divers': half-human, half-merling hybrids and inevitably one would agree to visit the underwater kingdom. Small outposts of the half-breeds existed throughout the islands, with at least three on Harlaw. But I did not hold up hopes that the diver would be successful in finding the culprit. The merlings had liked to keep to themselves in the old days even before Balon's madness, but the failed rebellion had driven our species even further apart after the loss of Pyke and the destruction of the Merling colonies around the island. If not treated carefully, the tenseness between our races could very easily erupt into violence.

Once more I cursed Balon for what he had achieved.

"I have no doubt" I said, raising my voice "that this was an isolated incident. The merling community would never wish any harm on the people of these islands." Privately I wasn't so sure. Many of the merlings and indeed the Ironborn who did not live on Harlaw saw me as a usuper, who had taken the Iron Islands from their legitimate kings. If they meant my niece Asha I could have worked with her to slowly collapse the rebellious undercurrent, but to my disgust they meant her uncle Euron. The Mad Crow as he had been christened on the mainland had not been seen since Balon's idiocy and therefore usually I would have assumed that the last male Greyjoy was dead.

_Good Riddance._

But then there were the whispers of a man of Euron's description; buying a dragon egg in Asshai, recruiting in Volantis for an expedition to the haunted Valyrian Penisula, visiting the abandoned coast of Lorath. Euron was certainly mad enough to visit and survive those places and cunning enough to avoid the assassins sent after him by the various Greenlander Rulers.

_And he's mad enough to come back here too._

Content that I had achieved all I could for the moment I ordered for the body to be taken away for burial in open ocean as was Ironborn tradition. Usually the sailors would go a thousand or so metres out of the harbour, before tying a stone to the man's feet and tossing him overboard. The belief was that doing this would allow the man access to the Drowned God's Hall, to forever feast in glory at the god's side.

_But the Drowned God hasn't spoken for years now..._

The harsh soil crunched under my feet as I walked back along the winding path to my castle of Ten Towers, or nine now due to one being catastrophically damaged after the great storms in 278AC. I was forced to walk back to the castle as aside from a few stables on Great Wyk, horses or any other riding beast was practically unheard of on the islands. Even from far off I could see the silver scythe of House Harlaw flying high from the tallest of the towers. My ancestors probably wouldn't know what to think about out our house's new situation. On one hand we had been granted the traditional titles (or as close as possible under the Iron Throne) of House Greyjoy and House Hoare before them making us the most powerful house in the islands. On the other hand the Iron Islands themselves were...so much less. Even before the loss of Pyke and all its treasures and history, the Ironborn had been dying. No new sea dragons had awoken in centuries. The last krakens in service to House Greyjoy had died in the attack on the Shield Islands and the Arbor. The Drowned God and the Salt Wife stayed in their eternal sleep, untroubled by the dying of their people. Even the sea rarely shook with the ancient storms nowadays. Was it any wonder that so many of the Ironborn had converted to the Seven, or the Old Gods, or Mother Rhoyne?

"Uncle!" called the voice of a young woman, namely my niece Asha. With her black hair and green eyes she took after her father more than my sister (a fact further embodied by the long dagger attached to the belt of her dress) though there was still something of her mother in the features of her face. "Uncle, there's a man claiming to be from Koridoran who wishes to speak with you." I quietly groaned. The people of Koridoran, the other great southern archipegio aside from the Summer Islands were equally feared and loathed by the Ironborn nation. Granted this was not entirely the fault of Koridoran due to the many failed raids on the archipegio in antiquity, but their horrendous role in the recent fall of the Iron Islands had labelled them as a curseword to any self-respecting Ironborn.

"Well we better see what he wants." I replied and allowed my niece to lead me into the castle. As I suspected, my niece had directed the Koridoran envoy towards my private solar in the eastermost tower, overlooking Ironman Bay and away from anyone who could overhear. The solar was unusually warm for a Iron Islands habitation, which were usually just above freezing due to frequent cold winds from the north and from the west (which was probably something to do with the maniacs on the Lonely Light).

The room was filled on all sides with various books chronicling the rise and fall of the Iron Islands, the deals and trade agreements made to keep what was left of our economy afloat and scraps of the ancient arts of magic which the true Ironmen of yesterday had used and their descendents had forgotten. The only wall not covered with bookshelves featured the large ancestral weapon of House Harlaw and origin of our crest, the ancient scythe Milkwater. Though it wasn't Valyrian steel or skysteel or even dragonglass, being in reality made of well-loved and well-used steel; the blade and shaft of the scythe was covered with old Ironborn wards for protection and to make the blade extra sharp. The scythe dated back to before the War of Iron and Gold, though no one was sure of its exact origin. Currently stood, examing it was a short, rotund man. Though he looked no threat whatsoever I noticed the large crossbow attached to his back, along with the faint, almost inperceptable shade of purple in his dark hair, a common feature for Koridorans.

Clearing my throat I said "I was told you wished to see me, ser...?" The man turned around and smiled politely though it failed to meet his milky white eyes.

"Lord Gastem, my lord. And yes, I'm here on behalf of the House Koridan to discuss some worrying news about a certain relative of your niece." I suddenly felt a tremendous sense of foreboding.

 "I haven't recieved any word on Euron for years, my lord" I said, "But any news you could give would be greatly appreciated." If anything, the man's smile got wider.

"My King's spy networks have recieved news of a man sharing Euron Greyjoys appearance pillaging around the Vale coast." The man's voice resembled the hissing of a Dornish viper.

_How did he escape Lorath I wonder?_

The coast around the former free city of Lorath had been abandoned for centuries following the event known as the Great Silence. According to the tales, some sort of dark god had taken up residence in that corner of the ocean and would prey upon any who entered his domain.

"I thank your king for passing this information onto me" I responded, "I will see what I can do to deal with Euron."

_Nothing most likely. It seems all I can do is nothing._

And then because I knew it was coming; "Does your king wish for anything in return?"

"Only that the problem is...dealt with as soon as possible. One Greyjoy rebellion was bad enough." His eyes bore into me. "We would not like another." 

 

**Extras 3**

**Excerpt from 'Animals of the Iron Islands' by Maester Lionel**

 

The Sea Dragon is a creature that defies the knowledge of even the most learned of the inhabitants of Westeros. Very little is known and the only known relics and bones of a dragon are considered some of the core icons of the religion of the Drowned God and as such are not available for study. I shall however lay out what is known so that perhaps it can be added to by future generations.

  * Sea Dragons are absolutely massive, overshadowing even the Ice Dragon Frostwing in size, who was himself twice the size of Balerion at the latter's peak.
  * The Sea Dragons live in the deep depths of the ocean, even beyond the Merling tribes and only emerged when roused by magic.
  * They cannot fly and instead when attacking a coast must crawl their way out of the ocean. This is in some ways their greatest weakness as on land they are incredibly slow and cannot move far from the water.
  * They have immense strength, enough that one was responsible for the destruction of the above-ground areas of the Dwarf Kingdom Erebos.
  * The largest known specimen was the sea dragon Naga whose tail bones form Nagga's hill on Pyke.
  * The art of communing with Sea Dragons has been lost for centuries but is believed to have involved a horn and immense sacrifice.
  * They are rumoured to have an immense fondness for the Ironborn delicacy 'Soy Sauce'.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/10/16


	5. Tyrion I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Broken Man and the Fool

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 5**

Tyrion 'Halfdude' Lannister

Casterly Rock, the Westerlands - 19th Minumfest, 299AC

 

The lonely mountain of Casterly Rock loomed over the City of Lannisport and the surrounding landscape; a testament to a legacy of more than a thousand years. Great pillars, arches and statues were carved into the sides of the mountain in the typical pseudo-dwarven fashion. Great swirls of gold and silver garlanded the walls, designed to reflect flowers, tales from history and ancestors of the current rulers.

And of course there were lions everywhere.

_You can practically smell my father from here._

To be honest, I did feel slightly nervous about returning to the halls of my childhood (assuming you could refer to my earlier years as anything resembling a childhood). While my father had never seen fit to make his dislike for my joining of the Maester Order - the original order, not any of the schisms -  known publically or even via a letter, I could sense his displeasure from all the way down in Newtown. I suspected my dismissal from the order was due to this anger, even though the 'official' reason was due to my frequent whoring (which was ridiculous considering the behaviour of some of the Archmaesters). Doubtless he wished for me to come crawling back, begging for a second chance like the filthy imp he saw me as. But I still have my pride and I have sworn not to give him the satisfaction.

_A Lannister always pays his debts, after all._

To mock my father's efforts at regaining control over me I had begun a long trip around the Seven Kingdoms and even both parts of Dorne. Admittedly this was partly for my own benefit as well, as it allowed me to visit the sites of history, both ancient and modern. The ruined city of Oldtown. The Hollow Hill, site of the famous Andal massacre. The Eyrie, highest castle in the world. The mines of Erebos (which thankfully in spite of the name, was not in fact entirely 'Sober'). King's Landing, capital of the Seven Kingdoms. Half-Bridge, the site of the Treaty of Dorne.

I had even been allowed under special privileges (aka: the Lannister name opening doors) to visit the Isle of Faces, birthplace of the Faith of the Old Gods. None of my companions had been allowed to come with me and passage to the island required the use of a small boat rowed by a masked green man. I myself had to wear a blindfold until deep within the isle. While the innards of the island itself was nothing spectacular, being just a cluster of various temples, shrines and godswoods the uncomfortable feeling of being watched was never too far away. The woods and the small streams just felt too...still for my liking, as if the entire place was frozen in time. Then again, I didn't mind this too much in the shrine set up to the Stone God, who I like the rest of my 'family' kept to due to our Dwarven ancestry.

_It's one of the few things we all have in common...aside from scheming._

"So where is this great fortress you grew up in then?" asked my companion, Ser Twenty Goodman, a man not unlike Gregor Clegane in size but closer to a septon in behaviour. House Goodman was a cadet branch of House Justman, the Lord Paramounts and former kings of the area to the north of Westeros known as the Riverlands. The house was regarded both as producing some of the finest knights in the kingdom and for being steadfast defenders of the faith of the Seven (though admittedly often with the unofficial inclusion of Mother Rhoyne as an eighth god due to the Rhoynar presence in the Riverlands).

_I suspect that the man sleeps with the Father's book under his pillow._

I had met Ser Twenty during my travels when the man himself was doing a pilgrimage to the rebuilt Starry Sept in the Reach. It had taken a while to hit off, possibly due to my wit and the man's persistent quoting of various holy books. I'd probably learnt more about the Seven in his presence than during my entire lifetime. Apparently the man had joined my company to help me cleanse my mind and soul.

_At least he's willing to listen._

"I would have thought your eyesight was good enough to spot the mountain over there, good ser." I replied, pointing towards Casterly Rock "Should I enquire after a healer when we arrive?" Twenty laughed.

"That piddily thing on the hillside! It looks like it would fall into the sea with the slightest gust of wind!"

"Make sure you tell my father that" I replied chuckling weakly, "I think he'll be rather upset." We continued over the hill and along the winding gravel road.

\----------------

The years had not changed my father - which I admit was disappointing. Short and heavily bearded, wearing the finest golden armour and armed with the pickaxe Brightroar, he stood scowling and flanked by guards in the entrance hall of the Rock. A massive room; the entrance hall was carved straight out of the rock and carved with images of Lannister history: the discovery of Casterly Rock, the opening of the first mines, the forging of Brightroar, Lann the Clever and of course the carving that functioned as both record and warning, the discovery of Duram's Bane.

_'Speak his name and tremble'_

"Well met Father" I said, waddling towards him with as big a smile as I could manage.

"Tyrion." My father's voice was almost, but not quite a growl. "You have finally seen fit to start behaving as befits a Lannister I take it?" There was an almost imperceptible challenge in his words.

"I have finished on my tour of Westeros for now, at least" I said, with a frozen smile. My father's lips became even tighter, if such a thing was possible. "Perhaps at a later I will visit Northos, or the Free Cities."

"Lancel will escort you and your...companion to bedchambers" My father ordered. I expected the only reason he granted Twenty 'companion status was to avoid offending the Justmans. "You are expected to join me in my solar for dinner." The underlying threat was clear.

Expected. It was always expectation with my father. Despite taking after him the most (a fact I was very loathe to admit) he had always expected more of me than of my siblings - who unlike the rest of the family, were tall and beautiful, taking after my mother Joanna. I suspected I knew one part of the cause now however (the other part being my mother dying in childbirth). Among the dwarves and half-dwarves I had heard tell of the mind sickness known as sky-rot. In an inversion of a dwarves natural instincts, dwarves inflicted with this madness would seek to build high instead of digging deep and would envy the other races (with the exception of children of the forest) their natural height and size. His pride would prevent him from admitting it, but I suspected this was the cause of his greater love for his human-like children, his encouraging of Jaime's swordplay and Cersei's efforts to become Queen (though the former had ended up working against him in the end). I suspected it was even the cause for his love for my mother who had been a true beauty among humans according to the records. And of course, it was the cause of his utter loathing for me.

My father wished to be human and I was a reminder that he was not.

\---------------- 

 The table had already been set by the time I arrived. Dominating the layout was a massive three-bird roast and two large decanters of wine. Obviously my father didn't want to be forced into sharing the same wine as me.

"You may sit." Speaking of Lord Tywin Lannister, the man himself was seated at - of course - the opposite end of the table, where he could glare all he wanted with no threat of coming into contact with me.

"As you wish" I replied, seating myself and pulling one of the decanters towards me.

_Perhaps I should drink straight out of this? That would doubtless infuriate him._

Sighing under my breath, I poured a glass of wine. I would need it to get through this evening without attempting murder. The two of us did not talk at all while eating, both being intently focused on ignoring the other. The few times I looked up, my father was occupied with a report he had brought to the table with him. The solar was uncomfortably cold and despite the roast being very well made, I would have preferred to be anywhere else.

"Tomorrow you are to be supervising miners in the depths" my father finally said.

"One day after getting back?" I replied, "I think I'd just prefer to stay in bed." My head is killing me after everything.

"You will not" he ordered, "I have allowed you to gallivant around Westeros for a year and now that you have returned, you will repay me."

_I left without your permission, don't deny it._

"As I seem to remember you didn't allow me to do anything" I said, "This is the first time we've spoken since I 'visited' the citadel." His lip curled.

"Do not be so foolish to believe that I could not have forced you back if I wished" he replied, "You have brought shame on this family; so much that I have considered removing you more than once." I forced my body to remain calm.

"The crown would not favourably for murdering a highborn, father" I replied, "Especially your heir." He smirked.

"But what about your bastard Tyrion?" He asked, "No one cares about a bastard like her, especially since she's a girl. I could have her killed or forced into whoring with a word which no one would protest."

_Blast!_

Joanna, the only child I had ever managed to have with Tysha before Gregor Clegane'a visit. The image of her mother but with my hair and eyes, she had been one of the few good things about my later years at the Rock. Abandoning her to join the Maesters had been one of the hardest things I had been forced to do, even if I had left her with carers and old enough to mostly look after herself. The fear that my father might do something had nearly convinced me to stop, only prevented by the girl's own blessing and a belief that even my father wouldn't resort to kinslaying. But if he would...I could not endanger her a second time.

"As you wish, my lord" I muttered, before marching from the room - cursing myself all the way.

 

**Extras 4:**

**The Legend of Duram's Bane and the War in the Deep, Unknown Dwarf Author**

  
There are many words and warnings present in the great tapestry that is Dwarven History.

Never run with matches. Never disturb a Knocker. Never, ever play with the undergarments of a dwarven princess.

But no words have shaped our culture more than these 'Never dig too deep and too greedily'.

The origin of these words comes from the ancient half-dwarven mountain of the Old Rock. The Old Rock was ruled by the line of Casterly, descended from the ancient hero Minum through the line of Barum Shovel-Hand.

The Casterly's were famous for their love of gold, more so than any other mineral or gem. In their haste to gather more of the mineral they delved deeper than any of our kind had before, wiping out entire goblin nations in their quest.

But they were not careful and missed the signs and warnings present in the earth itself. The Adamantine veins. The massive lakes of magma. And above all, the quietness of the rock. They had dug deep enough that sound itself had failed to follow them.

At last they opened up the roof of a massive cavern, large enough to hold all the great cities in the world twice over. Erebos, King's Landing, Oldtown and Winterfell could all have been buried down there without a hope of reaching the top. There were a great many beings at the bottom of that cavern - as there are in the deep parts of the world - but none more terrible and more cruel than the creature all dwarves would come to call Duram's Bane.

With it's release the demon rose from the deep and met the miners of the Casterly's in combat. They stood no chance. Whether by fire or stone or wrath the depths were purged of life.

All too quickly the half-dwaves realised what exactly they had awoken and called for aid.

The combined armies of the dwarven nations, the human nations and the goblin nations (as even our ancient enemies could not stand idly by) met the beast in combat in the Casterly mines, deep in the shadows of the earth.

Whole lines were extinguished, fathers, sons, and grandsons falling bare metres from each other for little gain. No less than five human kings, from lines as far apart at Westerling, Blackwood and Oakheart perished.

Until eventually, the great Dwarven hero, Duram, son of Dunor, son of Donur, King of Erebos met the beast in combat with diamond pick on hellfire sword. Even the demon could not stand against the great hero who sealed it away in the deep cavern, but at the cost of his own life.

And as punishment for their greed and the ruin they had brought upon all, the Casterly's - men, women and children alike were flung into the deep cavern before it was sealed with their names were stricken from history.

Never forget the past for the future is built upon it.

 

**Extras 5**

**The House of Lannister - 299AC**

 

  * Lord Tytos Lannister (220AC-267AC) m. Lady Jeyne Marbrand (219AC-255AC)
  *    Lord Tywin Lannister (B.242AC) m. Lady Joanna Lannister (247AC-273AC)
  *       Queen Cersei Lannister (B.266AC) m. King Robert Baratheon (B.262AC)
  *          Princess Cassana Baratheon (B.284AC)
  *          Prince Joffrey Baratheon (B.286AC)
  *          Prince Tommen Baratheon (B.291AC)
  *          Princess Lanna Baratheon (B.294AC)
  *       Ser Jaime Lannister (B.266AC)
  *       Tyrion 'the Imp' Lannister (B.273AC) w. Tysha (272AC-287AC)
  *          Joanna Hill (B.287AC)
  *    Ser Kevan Lannister (B.244AC) m. Lady Dorna Swyft (B.246AC)
  *       Ser Lancel Lannister (B.282AC)
  *       Willem Lannister (B.286AC)
  *       Martyn Lannister (B.286AC)
  *       Lady Janei Lannister (B.296AC)
  *    Lady Genna Lannister (B.245AC) m. Dwarf-King Barabos of Erebos, son of Terman (B.240AC)
  *       Prince Tywald (B.265AC)
  *       Princess Jeyne (B.268AC)
  *    Tygett Lannister (255AC)
  *    Ser Gerion Lannister (B.255AC) m. Larna of Braavos (B.257AC)
  *       Lady Joy Lannister (B.288AC)



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 19/10/16


	6. Oberyn I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sun, Sea and Sands.

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 6**

Oberyn Martell

The Water Gardens, Eastern Dorne - 20th Minumfest, 299AC

 

The room felt cooler than usual upon my awakening. Usually in the day here in Eastern Dorne the weather would always be at a consistent warm temperature, even in the oasis that formed the Water Gardens, second palace of the house of Nymeros-Martell. A true Dornishman could tell from the heat alone that they had entered their home country as there was truly no other place in the world like it, not even in such far flung places as Leng or the Summer Islands. So obviously I was slightly concerned about the cool breeze that had somehow invaded my bedchamber.

"I see you've awoken."

Well, there was a likely explanation for the cooler room. Pulling myself up I spotted the woman...well, Goddess responsible. As usual she had taken the form of a Dornishwoman for the evening and so was practically in the nude, aside from a silver dolphin charm on her right arm. She was leaning on one of the bedside cabinets, gazing softly at me.

I had met the Lady of Waves (as she referred to herself) shortly after the end of Rhaegar's war while visiting the city of Lys. The woman had been fascinated by me and had quickly invited me to join her at her home (though oddly enough when I returned the day after, the house no longer existed). I confess, I was flattered to receive a goddess's personal attention.

_I blame my good looks._

"I'm not sure" I replied, smiling wickedly and pretending to yawn "I might need a reminder." She laughed and batted her eyelashes.

_Nothing like starting a day with a go on the bedsheets._

"And how would I remind you, milord" she asked in a commoners drawl, "I'm only a innocent peasant girl, with no knowledge of the carnal arts of the bedchamber."

"And I'm the King of Northos" I deadpanned, causing her to look annoyed.

"Do not mock me" she replied with a harsh glare, before she shook her head. "Once again I keep forgetting that I need you alive" she muttered, before smiling over at me. "I'm afraid you're going to be much to busy today for a second round." I frowned.

"Busy with what?" I asked. She smirked.

"I'll leave that for your family to explain" she answered. Her eyes flashed blue and in an instant she was clothed, wrapped in a Lyseni style of dress. "You should get dressed too Oberyn. Important events are beginning and time cannot be wasted." 

"But what could be more important than this?" I cried, "Surely you can spare a few moments to assist your lord?"

"Gods don't have lords." Her eyes flashed again, before she vanished in a spiral of water.

_And now my day is ruined._

\----------------

As I exited my bedchamber on the north side of the palace, I was able to look over the entirety of the Water Gardens. The oasis stretched over an area of thousand hundred metres, watered and nourished by the Hugor Screws, miraculous devices invented in Norvos that would channel water upwards and allow the creation of a vibrant garden even this far from one of Dorne's few rivers. My brother Doran, the ruling prince of Eastern Dorne had given me castillianship of the second palace due to his preference of staying in Sunspear where he could ensure that the kingdom was being governed correctly without having to make long trips. It also allowed him to make sure that his daughter Arianne's education was proceeding correctly, so that she could rule well when the time came. With my investment, I had taken the opportunity to arrange for places in the Water Gardens for all my various daughters.

_They may be bastards but they still mean more to me than any other child ever could._

Obara, mothered by a whore in Oldtown. Nymeria, begat on a Volantine noblewoman. Tyene, a Septa. Sarella, a Summer Islander. Elia and Dorea, the Lady of Waves. Some of their mother's had tried to keep their daughters with them, forcing me to physically take the child. Obara's mother had been particularly bad, practically begging for me to leave them be.

_But what child would want to stay with a weak woman like that?_

I am a prince of House Martell, brother to the ruler of Eastern Dorne. What could those women possibly do for the children that I could not! Our lands had seen peace under my brother's reign, he always being unwilling to put his own desires over the good of the people of Dorne. Some saw him as a weak man, strong of body perhaps as a result of our healing springs but with a weak willed woman's mind. Even some of our own people thought he was too weak to avenge our sister and had given him the name Doran 'Milkwater'.

_Manticore poison made short work of them._

I would still wake up some mornings wondering where Elia had gone, thinking she had perhaps gone to bathe little Aegon and Rhaenys in the pools or to debate politics with my brother in Sunspear. But no. She was gone now, butchered by the rebellion and lost to our family forever.

_Damn them all._

We should never have agreed to marry her to Rhaegar Targaryen. We should have foreseen the madness that lurked in his veins, madness that would lead him to kidnap the Stark girl and throw the continents into war. There was no way the Seven Kingdoms could have forced us to submit if we refused. Eastern Dorne was impenetrable, a marching army being forced to go through the Yronwood Kingdom and the Boneway before they could even reach us. And the Yronwoods would never betray us for the Targaryens regardless of whatever promises were made, even if they were offered the whole of Dorne for themselves. The treaty would not allow otherwise!

_And they felt the same dragonfire the Martells have._

Outside of Dorne, the kingdom of Northos would have risen to assist us as well, our kingdoms always having to work closely against the more powerful Targaryen territories. Perhaps we could even have tempted Koridoran and the Iron Islands to join in and help us rip and tear them to shreds. Aerys would have to go to the free cities for a bride and we would stay 'Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken' once more.

_But the Targaryens were not the only ones to blame for Elia's death._

The Lannisters. Led by the mad dwarf Tywin they had jumped in at the last second of the war and sacked New King's Landing, reducing the largest city on the continent to chaos and anarchy. But they refused to stop there as even the Ironborn, the eternal scourge of the western coasts would have done. Elia, my sweet innocent sister had locked herself in the nursery with Aegon and waiting to be rescued. Only to be found by the dwarf's mad dog, Gregor Clegane instead. Aegon, barely a babe was found ripped in two, forcing myself and my brother to identify him by the face alone. Then Elia, gentle Elia was raped by the brute with her son's blood still on his hands until finally when the monster was satisfied with his deed; he reached up and crushed her skull. Doran had confessed in private that the sight of her mangled corpse had nearly caused him - an endless pacifist - to grab the family spear (Riversblood, a relic from the Rhoynar civilisation) and kill Tywin and that brute.

_And Rhaenrys..._

My niece's body was found floating in the castle moat, stabbed and cut so much that she was utterly unrecognisable. More a lump of flesh than a corpse. And Lord Tywin Lannister had smiled at the sight.

_I will have revenge. For my sister, for Doran and for me._

First I would cut up the Kingslayer and the Imp and show _them_ to him. Or perhaps I would force _them_ to fight each other to the death and force _him_ to watch. Then I would take his daughter and give her to the sellswords we would doubtless have needed to gather. Perhaps I would finish the deed myself to make _him_ suffer as my family had suffered! I will see the Lannisters destroyed! I will see Casterly Rock in ruins!

_But I will show mercy to the children. Elia would not want them to be harmed._

"My prince" said a deep voice behind me. Turning around sharply, I recognised the man as Areo Hotah, the most trusted bodyguard of my brother - left over from his wife Mellario's companions when she returned to Norvos. But he should have been in Sunspear...

"Areo?" I asked, "Why has my brother asked you to come here?"

"He wishes to explain that himself my prince" Areo replied, "If you would follow me." He led me into the private quarters of the palace. Subconsciously I gripped the dagger at my side.

\----------------

My brother stood in the shadows of the room, cloaked in black.

"Brother" I said, stepping forward to embrace him "It is good to see you."

"Would that it was under better circumstances Oberyn" he replied, returning the hug "I have had to rush here without notice and leave Arianne in charge at Sunspear." I could hear the urgency in his voice.

"Why are you here then?" I asked, "Have we been attacked?" He grimaced.

"Not yet, but events are moving that I have not predicted. As we speak many members of the Old Blood of Volantis have travelled to Pentos to meet with the Beggar King." He looked at me intently. "Volantis would be a powerful ally for the Targaryens, even against the whole strength of Westeros."

"But the Old Blood never leaves Volantis" I said, "There must be some mistake, I've been there, they barely leave the Black Walls."

"I know and that is what has me most worried. Especially with the news of Robert Baratheon and his family travelling to Northos. While I have no love for the Baratheons, a Targaryen restoration would bring chaos to Dorne." My Brother looked at me sadly. "Once again I must ask too much of you Oberyn."

"What do you wish for me to do, Doran" I asked, "You only need to ask." I can pass unseen if necessary, the art of disguise is well known to our people. 

"Travel to Pentos" he ordered, "Find out what the Targaryens are planning. If there is to be a war, then let us know about it before it starts."

 

**Extras 6**

**The Treaty of Dorne**

Signed by the Princess of Sunspear, the King of Yronwood and the King in Oldtown (acting as witness).

Signed on the Half-Bridge.

From henceforth the Land of Dorne is divided into two kingdoms, namely Eastern Dorne ruled by the House Nymeros - Martell and Western Dorne ruled by the House Yronwood.

The Great Bridge of Half-Bridge shall act as border for the two kingdoms and meeting place for future monarchs.

The kingdoms shall have a perpetual alliance to defend each other in the event of invasion and each shall allow for free movement across the border.

When possible, a second son or daughter from either kingdom will marry the heir of the other kingdom to ensure the longevity of this alliance.

All religions will be accepted by the monarchs of either kingdom.

When presented with a threat to both kingdoms or another matter that requires the presence of both monarchs, the aforementioned monarchs will meet to discuss a unified response.

Signed in the presence of the Septons of Yronwood and the Starry Sept. Also the High Priestess of Mother Rhoyne.

Signed in the 45th Year after the Arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 23/10/16


	7. Brynden I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What makes a honourable man?

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 7**

Brynden Justman

The Gates of the Moon, Vale of Arryn - 19th Minumfest, 299AC

 

_Justice for All._

The ancestral words of House Justman echoed in my head as I looked over the mountain valleys. What they spoke of, giving equal rights to all regardless of their rank had been the core principle of all the heads of my house, whether as king or later as lord. Under them peace and prosperity had been brought to the Riverlands, only interrupted by the actions of foreign powers who were swiftly taught their place. But under my brother things had been different. While he certainly desired for the Riverlands to still prosper, far too many of his actions had related to increasing the power of our house alone instead of us and our vassals. It was his pursuit of this that led first to my refused marriage and then to the foreign marriages of both his daughters.

_Neither of which I agreed with with._

Catelyn, the eldest had been married off to Eddard Stark, the King of Northos. While I know that she is happy in her marriage, the distance between Winterfell and Oldstones - as well as the numerous culture distances - had created a breakdown in communication between her and the rest of our family. The last letter I had recieved from her was five months ago and felt very distant when I read it. I hadn't recieved a letter from any of her children once. I doubt her father had recieved any letters ever.

_Has the ice in the Stark's blood spread to her as well?_

Lysa on the other hand, had been married to Jon Arryn after Elbert Arryn died in King's Landing. Jon had already been an old man at the wedding, grey-haired and winkled - not what Lysa wanted. Their marriage had never been a happy one and had only produced one child, who was sickly from birth. I sometimes worried that her unhappiness had broken Lysa's mind. Protecting her was the reason I had agreed to become the Knight of the Gate, guardian of the ancient Gates of the Moon that prevented access to the Eyrie, the fortress mountain of the Arryns and highest castle in the world. Only the top slopes of the mountain had been dug into out of fear of the mountain clans, but even with that the fortress was still practically impossible to take.

_Except with dragons of course._

"Ser Brynden!" shouted a voice, "Ser Brynden I need to speak to you!" Turning around I recognised the voice as belonging to my current squire, Olvar Frey. I had taken on the kid as a squire after Edmure's wedding, in a half-hearted attempt to appease my brother who still refused to forgive me for not marrying the Redwyne girl he had suggested. To be fair, the kid wasn't too bad for a Frey.

"What is it boy?" I demanded.

"Lady Arryn is demanding your presence in the Eyrie" the boy replied, "Apparently she's threatening to have her messengers thrown through the moon door if you aren't brought to her immediately!" At any other time I would have threatened to take the boy's head for spreading lies about my niece, but sadly this was not unusual for Lysa's behaviour at the moment. Even with the unhappiness in the marriage of her and Jon, the shock of his death seemed to have badly shaken both her sanity and her paranoia. She saw things that were not there, had terrifying nightmares of the past and of the future and spoke of whispers from the shadows.

_Prophecies always bring ruin._

My people knew well the damage that prophecy could bring, the madness that could be brought down by those attempting to see what would come. The visions had me worried immensely as a result and I endeavoured to find a cure for my niece. Truthfully, Lysa's state had worried me to such an extent that unbeknownst to her I had sent a letter asking for her Catelyn and some of her children to visit in the hopes that they would be able to help her where I had not. As Catelyn was queen of an entire nation I could hardly waste her time but for her sister's sake... I had only sent the letter out a few days ago, so for now I was the only person available to help my niece.

"I will see what she needs" I told Olyvar. I looked for a messenger and spotting none turned back to Olyvar. "You will inform Nestor Royce that he is the Knight of the Gate in my absense. He should be in his solar."

"Yes my lord" said the boy, before racing off as I whistled for my griffin Fleetfoot. The griffin was a fairly widespread animal throughout Westeros and considered one of the most prestigious steeds possible for a member of the nobility; even if they were notoriously proud and difficult to train, almost as much as Hippogriffs. Fleetfoot originated from the large griffin colony around Griffin's Roost in the Stormlands. Being a Connington griffin he was a paragon of his kind, with gleaming tawny feathers and fur. Rumour had it that the only reason the Conningtons weren't punished for their role in the rebellion was that even King Robert recognised their skill with the animals (and also apparently had a affair with a Connington daughter). I had been given him as a young boy by my father.

Fleetfoot shrieked as he landed on the battlements, his clawed feet clinking on the hard stone. I quickly mounted him - thankfully a saddle was already attached - and pulled on the reins to signal for him to lift off. Riding a griffin was an odd experience, as unlike a horse the Griffin will always go where it wants, even if that doesn't match your destination. The trick then, was to always be polite and respectful to the animal so that it was willing to follow your directions at all times. Even the most friendly griffin could quickly become uncooperative if treated badly.

_Having a few sugar cubes on hand helps too._

The landscape stretched out below us as we flew upwards towards the castle at the top of the mountain of the Eyrie. Far to the west I could spot one of the other three massive fortresses in the Vale, the Bloody Gate, seat of House Wayngate, a cadet branch of House Waynwood that had been founded several centuries ago. To tell the truth it was less of a gate nowadays, being a massive fortress in its own right, only succeded by Runestone and the Eyrie/Bloody Gate itself in size. Far to the east I could just see the shores of Iron Lake, shining silver even in the bright sunlight. We were hundreds of metres above the ground now and as always I was struck by just how high up the Eyrie was. The three waycastles were visible on the slopes up to the hanging baskets of the castle, all three of them made of the same cold white marble shared with the Eyrie. On the side facing me I could the sky cells, a rather unique variety of prison some sadistic Arryn had thought of.

_Or maybe Arryn's in general are sadistic. I mean, the Eyrie isn't known as 'the Castle without a Soul' for nothing._

Finally we flew over the western battlements and landed safely in the snowy courtyard of the Eyrie. After a few seconds which I used to resteady myself afer the flight, I marched towards the great hall where I knew Lysa would be at this time of day. As I got closer I could already hear her shrieking.

_It seems she's having a bad one..._

"Where is my uncle?" she was demanding, interspersed with threats and soothing requests for her 'Sweetrobin' to come and sit on her lap. I quickened my pace, threw open the doors and marched inside.

"You wished to see me Lysa?" I said. I could see her skinny and malnourished frame curled up on the marble throne of the Eyrie, sending hateful glares to everyone and everything that caught her eyes. The steward of the castle and her son Robin (her 'Sweetrobin') stood on the dais looking increasingly disturbed. The latter nodded to me as I entered. He was a tall and lanky boy of twelve, red haired like his mother but in all other features taking after Jon Arryn. He had been a sickly child for the first few years but after an expensive visit to the healing springs in Eastern Dorne he had grown into an intelligent, though oddly solemn boy. The Fostering at Runestone did him a lot of good as well, keeping him away from Lysa's overprotectiveness. Yohn Royce would have ensured he was well educated.

"Uncle" Lysa said, spittle flying from her mouth as leaned down from the throne, "You are late!"

"I apologise niece, it took a while for your message to reach me down at the gate."

"It shouldn't have" she half-muttered, fixing her demented blue eyes on a maidservant who squeeked, "You should already be here guarding Sweetrobin" Robin flinched at the embarrassing nickname she had bestowed upon him as a baby. I sent him an apologetic glance. "I need you to send a letter to Catelyn telling her to bring her daughters here." Inwardly I rejoiced at Lysa's desire to reach out to her family again, but I was curious as to her reasons. The sisters had grown apart after the marriages, Lysa being jealous of both Catelyn's happy marriage and her many successful pregnancies.

"I will send a letter asking if Catelyn could bring her children to visit" I said, "With your backing I am sure that she will be willing."

"Not her boys" she yelled, "I won't have barbarians assoiating with my Sweetrobin."

_That's just cruel Lysa, even for you of late._

"Mother" Robin said, "The northmen are no more barbarians than we are. If they were than I doubt aunt Catelyn would have adjusted so well to the change of culture." While Robin's heart was in the right place, this was not the best time for him to make such a comment. Still, I was proud that the lad thought well of his cousins. If not for the death of his father he would probably have been sent to ward with them at one point, in the hope of a closer friendship between the Vale and its northern neighbor.

"Silence" she screamed, "Catelyn can rot her bits off in a frozen waste for all I care but you will not! You are my son and..." I stepped forwards to intervene before this got out of hand.

"Lysa" I soothed, "Maybe you should take some rest. I'll raven for Catelyn and her daughters to visit here. If I send the bird off now, they can start travelling before the month is out." She quieted down as I said this, though I suspected she had exhausted herself out of any more screaming fits for a while.

_Hopefully the King will agree to place another as Robin's regent so we can prevent this happening again._

"Yes" she replied, "The girls will join us here and one of them can marry my Sweetrobin as was suggested." That was odd. Lysa had never mentioned the prospect of a Stark marriage for Robin before.

_I actually can't remember her discussing any marriages whatsoever._

"Suggested by who may I ask?" I inquired.

"...My Late Husband" she replied, before lifting herself from the throne and marching out of the room. I stared after her intently.

_I had thought that Jon wanted a marriage to one of his bannermen - I remember discussing it with him._

"Is there something wrong Uncle Brynden?" asked Robin, who had quietly walked up to me without my notice. I smiled.

"Nothing lad" I replied, "I think I must just be getting confused in my old age."

 

**Extras 7**

**Extract from 'The Andal Invasion' by Historian Axel _._**

After the Vale had been almost completely subdued , the Andals set their sights on the area of Westeros that would later come to be known as the Riverlands. Here they made a terrible, fatal mistake. Until now, the battles with worshippers of the Old Gods had been fairly limited and attacks on sacred land even more so after the Sea Queen saw fit to intervene herself. Despite the many blessings the Seven granted to their worshippers (I suggest Maester Tytos's 'Origin of the Seven' as a resource) they were still no match for an angry Old Goddess. The message was clear - "I will accept your presence, but I will not accept you harming my followers".

No greater example can be seen of this than the Battle for the Three Sisters and the Massacre at the Hollow Hill.

The former of these involved the destruction of a large Andal fleet by the intervention of the Ice Dragon Frostwing and the companion of the Sea Queen, Echo the Dolphin. The fleet had been led by a Jonos Greenstar, who planned to kurb the influence of the Old Gods by driving them apart. He had dressed his troops in stolen Vale armour and ordered them to cut down the wierwoods - as even failure would likely result in a war between the gods.

Needless to say, none of the northern gods were fooled or pleased.

The latter saw the destruction of the largest Andal war host  in history by the intervention of all four of the major Old Gods. Never before or since have all the gods gathered in one location, especially united by one cause. To understand how such an occasion came to be we must look at the Andal's reasons for attacking that particular location.

The Hollow Hill is one of the most ancient sites of the Old God religion, believed by followers to be even older than the Isle of Faces and the Shard outside Storm's End. As such it was immensely valued by the worshippers of the Old Gods. It is believed, though there is no evidence that the Andal attack on the hill was meant to weaken the Old Gods and so allow for the Andal's to effectively combat the religion. Driving them against each other had failed already, so it was hoped that a large enough army would have been too big a target for even the gods.

Ironically they could have been right. It is certainly true that on occasions the Old Gods have been defeated by large armies - though only very briefly. Large scale attacks on one of the territories may even have succeeded. The issue was that they attacked a place valuable to all the deities.

Regardless of their intentions, the attempt failed and the entire army was wiped from existence. This began the period of religious conflict known as the Wars of the Laughing Tree in the Riverlands; a series of wars between the Seven, the Old Gods and the Drowned God that would only be finally stopped by the rise of House Justman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 26/10/16


	8. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Anvils need to be Dropped...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 8**

Jon Connington

Magister Illyrio's Manse, Pentos - 1st Minumfest, 299AC

 

Pentos stank less than King's Landing I supposed. Even after so many years away from the city I could remember the smell and the sights. The Ruins of the Dragonpit. The Sept of Viserys. The Street of Steel and the Street of Silk. The Guild of the Alchemists. The branch of the Historian Order. And towering above them all, the great castle of the Targaryens themselves, the Black Keep. When I first saw the castle as a mere boy, accompanying my father to court I had been unable to believe so large a place could exist. Massive ramparts, immense towers. The Black Keep was big enough to have the entirety of Storm's End inside it and still have room left over for the Dragonstone citadel. It had been a stone embodiment of the Targaryen dynasty - unmovable, mighty and proud.

_Well, if not for Aerys..._

In my short time as the King's hand I had been privy to more of his sickness than anyone else, except his wife and his noble son.

_Rhaegar..._

Even with the illness of Aerys the realm had no right to rise up against their rightful rulers. They should have been content for Rhaegar, in his wisdom to quietly remove his father from power and bring the Targaryens back to the icons of virtue and justice that they had always been. But of course they acted like juveniles instead of the lords they were.

_Traitors, all of them._

The Starks and the Baratheons should have been honoured by Rhaegar's interest in the Stark girl; they should have revelled in the glory of serving the last dragonlords. Rhaegar required her for the birth of his second daughter as prophesied and for the saving of both realms from the Voice of Winter and her Others. They should have been glad - the girl should have been glad that she had such a role to play in such a great event. Any other woman would have been honoured to receive the seed of the Prince who was Promised!

But the Usurper's dogs murdered Aegon and Rhaenrys in King's Landing, before Eddard Stark murdered his sister's daughter. Granted there was no proof of the latter's actions but considering he didn't announce a new-born Targaryen princess when he brought back his sister's bones to Winterfell, the evidence is clear to see. For a man who 'valued' honour so much to murder his sister was the greatest irony.

_He can't even claim that it was done for the sake of his house, as that didn't stop him from adopting Ashara Dayne's bastard as his own._

I had cursed both Stark and Dayne's names upon hearing that, realising at last the scale of the great conspiracy against the House Targaryen. If Ashara had been plotting against them then surely Elia must have been as well, sacrificing her life to avenge the Martells upon the dragons - doubtless still angry over Daeron's attempted conquest. The girl had been cunning to hide it from everyone, especially her wise husband. Doubtless Rhaegar was blinded by affection for her - while she was all the time plotting the deaths of him and her children.

_If only she had survived long enough for me to meet her again. The dragon might be the mightiest animal, but I would show her that the Griffin is still greater than the desert snake._

I had been unable to help Rhaegar and his children in their final moments after the disaster that was the Battle of Acorn Hall. My army had been destroyed and I had been trapped between the Usurper and the Lannister traitors. Apparently not a single Westermen had supported Prince Rhaegar, paralysed by fear of the Mad Dwarf.

_But that will not spare them my fury._

I had sworn to avenge my friend, even if the whole of Westeros and Northos had to burn for me to succeed in punishing the traitors. At the very least all the great houses save the Tyrells would have to be purged, along with a great many of their bannermen. The False Kings of Westeros and Northos would have to be cast down, their children slaughtered to prevent another rebellion against the Valyrians.

_As his children died, so will theirs._

It was for that reason I had travelled to Pentos in the first place. I had been seeking the other Targaryen children ever since the destruction of Rhaegar's line, hoping to help them regain their rightful position as rulers of Westeros. Originally I had hoped to meet them in Braavos at the Targaryen Manse, but by the seeming acts of the Gods themselves my ship had been attacked by Slavers. To my great shame I had been unable to defeat them and I had been trapped as a scribe: first in Yunkai and then in Volantis for one of the Old Blood for many years. Too many years to meet them in Braavos, as they had been expelled from the city by the Sealord himself.

_Once we have reclaimed the throne, we can take revenge on him as well._

It had been galling work, living as a slave. I had been dressed in little better than rags for half the time and never given enough food to eat. Many a time I had been whipped, beaten for no reason! I could still feel the weight of the slave collar around my neck, enchanted to prevent me from escaping my own bonds.

_But still, I was never idle. I refuse to give up for I am a Connington of Griffin's Roost!_

Using my position as scribe I was able to slowly worm my way into my _master's_ confidence (a powerful member of the Old Blood), quietly suggesting the prospect of assisting the Targaryen children. "Perhaps the saviours of the Targaryen dynasty will come from Essos. Perhaps the Seven Kingdoms can be reforged into a new Valyria. Think of the rewards possible in Westeros. The Dragons could be used to conquer the other Free Cities. You could force them to submit to you."

_But they will not receive any prize for their treatment of me. Only the Targaryens can control dragons, not these pitiful men._

It had taken years but eventually I had revealed myself to the Triach and offered to act as a spokesperson for them to the Targaryens. I had done the same for the High Priest Benerro, pinnacle of the faith of Rhillor, offering to spread the faith to the Seven Kingdoms, Northos and Dorne. While the tattoo burnt into my arm as a sign of devotion ached even now, the price had been worth it. The Usurper would be crushed by the fleets of Volantis and the Targaryen loyalists. Fire is stronger than ice.

_And when the time comes I will be the last face he ever sees._

I was waiting in one of the halls of the manse of Illyrio Mopatis, the Targaryen children's latest benefactor. I seethed at the name Viserys Targaryen had been given by the Pentosi smallfolk. "Beggar King!" How dare they speak that way about a descendant of Aegon the Conqueror! I could see the use in a Pentosi ally however. Even with the aid of Volantis, the Seven Kingdoms and their allies would be a hard nut to crack. The aid of Pentos could be the final push needed for the restoration of the true ruling dynasty.

_Not that I will trust the man._

With a creak the doors to the hall opened and a tall boy - no, a man walked inside. He had long gleaming white hair and shining purple eyes. He clearly carried the weight of the Targaryen's current state with him, yet clearly was still honourable and wise. Just and Kind! Mighty and Fierce! This was no son of the Aerys the Ill! This was nothing less than my Rhaegar reborn! I fell to my knees before the Targaryen King, not daring to look any more on his magnificent face.

"Illyrio has told me that you have some information for me Ser." said Viserys Targaryen, "Speak! What is it that you bring before me?"

"Your noble and great grace" I replied, not willing to lift my eyes to meet his violet orbs, "I am Jon Connington, former hand of your father and I bring the allegiance of Volantis to your side."

 

**Extras 8**

**A Letter recovered from the former city of Pentos. Unknown Writer.**

 

My dear friend.

You have asked me to create a list of all the possible mothers for Joanna Snow - daughter of Eddard Stark. It has been difficult, as to the best of my knowledge only Eddard himself and his wife know the truth. My birds have reported that both of them dote on the girl, who also shares a close friendship with her half-siblings: especially Robyn Stark. I fear she would not be a good target to bring to our side.

The candidates for mother are as follows:

  * Ashara Dayne: Believed by most to be the mother of Joanna which is supported by the fact that Ashara Dayne did have an affair with Eddard Stark and Joanna's dornish looks. The dates of the affair also match up with the girl's presumed age, though the eye colour is noticeably difficult to account for.
  * Wylla: A wetnurse from Dorne who lived at Starfall. Known to have looked Dornish but it is unclear when Eddard may have slept with her. I would consider it unlikely, as presumably the woman would have followed her daughter north.
  * Daena: A fisherman's daughter from Northos. It is unknown what she looked like but she is rumoured to have slept with Eddard on his journey to call the banners in Robert's Rebellion. However she is believed to have blue eyes, which presents a conflict.
  * Lyanna Stark: Heavily disputed and only rumoured in the Westerlands and the Crownlands, likely by the efforts of Queen Cersei. No explanation for Dornish appearance so I believe we can discount it.
  * Barbrey Dustin: Is known to have slept with Brandon Stark and possibly born him a bastard. Does not account for Dornish skin tone but does work with the age and hair/eye colour.
  * Elia Martell: Suggested due to the girls resemblance but there is no explanation of how such an affair could have happened. I think we can discount it.
  * Oberyn Martell: I think we can safely dismiss this possibility.
  * Robert Baratheon: See above.



I would suggest appealing to another house (possibly the Karstarks) instead of the girl. I hope this is helpful in your pressing business.

Your dear friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't obvious, Jon is ridiculously biased towards House Targaryen.
> 
> So make sure you take everything he says with more than one grain of salt.
> 
> Edited 25/11/16


	9. Cassana I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Daughter of the Storm

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 9**

Cassana Baratheon

The Winteroad: primary route to the City of Winterfell, Continent of Northos - 21st Minumfest, 299AC

  
The wheelhouse lurched as it went over a large rock on the rough path to Winterfell. As expected, this was accompanied as always by a muttered comment from my mother about "Northern Savages". Honestly. If she was going to complain this much about everything she should have stayed back in King's Landing as father offered. It would have been much more peaceful for the rest of us. Doubtless she would even have preferred in there, with the illusion of ultimate power it gave her. Not that she actually had any, though I doubted she realised that. But no, to my _great_ annoyance she had demanded to come north with us so that her 'darling' Joffrey wouldn't be separated from his mother.

_You would think she was Lysa Arryn with how much she obsesses over him._

To be fair to Lysa Arryn however, she had not seen her son for years while he was fostered in Runestone with the Royces and would probably have noticed if she had more children. My mother at the best of times barely seemed to realise that yes, she had more than one child. Of course, when she did it was only to demonstrate how great a queen she was.

_Dragon-shit all of it._

I had often wondered why my mother seemed to only take pride in Joffrey - considering Tommen a coward, Lanna an insignificant baby and myself as "No true Lannister". If Tommen's shy it's because of Joffrey's bullying and if Lanna's just a babe - what did you expect her to do? Dance? As for me, it was hardly my fault that I took after our father when none of my other siblings did. Most wives would have been gratified to have at least one child who took after their father! But no, to my mother anything that did not either bow down before her to be walked upon or was itself a Lannister was an enemy and should be destroyed immediately.

_It was because of that attitude that the Targaryens no longer exist. We can't expect people to love us if we don't love them back!_

It was probably due to this mind-set that she hated my father and the house she married into. While with effort I could understand her hatred for my beloved uncle Stannis due to her seeing him as taking her daughter away from her, I couldn't understand it in the slightest when it was directed towards my father or Renly. Besides which, it was my choice to ward on Dragonstone and she should have respected that. Not gone around saying "You're trying to usurp Joffrey's throne aren't you?! He is ten times the ruler you would ever be!" I didn't want the throne myself...not really. But Joffrey would be a terrible king.

_And the Baratheons are descended from the Gods themselves through Elenei. What could be a greater honour than that?_

It was also likely the cause of her hatred for the Starks, as even with her ascension to royalty they would at best see her as an equal. My brother Joffrey had failed to understand the same issue and had immediately somehow forgotten that the smallfolk of Northos were not actually sworn to obey us. If the involved smallfolk hadn't laughed it off, he could have caused a diplomatic incident on our first day here!

There was a knock on the door at the side of the wheelhouse. At my mother's direction one of her maids opened it to reveal my uncle Jaime in his white kingsguard armour riding alongside us on his horse. The smug look was - as usual - stuck to his pretty face. "We have nearly reached Winterfell your grace" he announced, sending my mother a grin, "I have been asked by the King as to whether or not any of you wish to ride with him for the final approach." I somewhat doubted my father had actually asked for Cersei to be given the option but at the chance of leaving the confined wheelhouse and the constant complaining of my mother I perked up. Before I could say anything however, my mother interrupted.

"We will stay here" she replied, throwing a glare at me "A queen should never be seen to ride when there is another, better option." I inwardly groaned and my uncle threw me an apologetic look before the door was closed on him. I sadly suspected my mother had still not given up on her mad plan of marrying me to the oldest Stark boy - Brandon, I believed - in an effect to make me queen of Northos and ensure her descendants ruled two kingdoms.

_Doubtless she would prefer it if Joffrey was able to rule both continents but Gods know that's never happening._

The obvious flaw in her plan was that the throne of Northos was automatically inherited by the oldest child rather than the oldest son, and with Brandon Stark having two older sisters - one of which already had her own son - there was little chance of him of him inheriting the crown. Personally, I thought the system was much more sensible than the succession to the Iron Throne which would jump through hoops to ensure no woman could sit upon it; a system that had been set up after the fiasco of the first Dance of the Dragons. Even when the dragonlords had been forced from power, not one of my father's courtiers had bothered to suggest a more sensible line of succession. I would have done it myself, only my mother would doubtless had started screaming again about 'usurpers'. I didn't particularly want to sit on the uncomfortable chair myself but anything would be better than Joffrey sitting on it.

_Though...my mother's reaction would be hilarious._

From outside the wheelhouse I heard a loud horn call, presumably announcing that the City of Winterfell was in sight. Seconds later, I heard another further away horn, presumably from Winterfell itself. Quietly, so not as to attract attention to my actions I attempted to peak out of the wheelhouse's windows which were currently covered with curtains to prevent in my other's own words "the smallfolk being able to spy on their betters." All I could see through the gap I created was a large grey mass in the distance surrounded by fields of white. I resisted the urge to peak out further as while I did not fear my mother - I still doubted that she willingly harm her own children willingly - I knew that the worse her mood, the more likely that she would offend our hosts.

_Not that a good mood would stop her, but still..._

"Children" my mother said, drawing attention to herself. By this she meant myself, Tommen and Lanna as Joffrey had managed to escape the carriage seeing as the heir to the throne needed to be seen riding with the King. "Remember, while the Stark's are savages and heathens, they are powerful and we are not surrounded by our supporters. While I have no doubt that the Stark's men would gladly betray them at the first opportunity and that even without that our men are far superior to theirs, the fact remains that we would be trapped on a unfriendly continent should hostilities break out. Therefore you will all be on your absolute best behaviour and do nothing to embarrass your brother or House Lannister."

_House Baratheon, mother._

To keep peace between us I nodded subserviently, putting on the act I had been forced to use ever since I arrived back from the ancient citadel of the Targaryens. The island had overflowed with the history of what had gone before, with statues depicting numerous events from Targaryen history - so different from the stifling Black Keep or the cold corridors of Casterly Rock. I dearly missed the place now, along with uncle Stannis and his family - his wife Janna, and his children Steffon, Melessa and sweet Shireen. Once again I sighed inwardly.

_Keep calm Cassana. It will be over soon._

_\----------------_

Eventually the wheelhouse came to a gentle stop in what I assumed was the courtyard of the Winterfell fortress. Taking Tommen's hand, I followed my mother out into the massive stone bailey. Enormous fat towers rose up around us, built out of the same dark grey rock as the tall walls of the castle. From several of the walls hung large white banners emblazoned with a grey crowned Direwolf. Standing directly opposite my family and the wheelhouse was a large group, which had to be the Stark family and household.

_All wearing furs I see. I thought Starks were immune to the cold?_

In the centre, King Eddard Stark, brown haired and grey eyed. On his right stood his wife, Queen Catelyn of House Justman (and my mother's apparent arch-rival) and their three daughters, all of which were red haired and blue eyed. The tallest daughter - Princess Robyn Stark - was holding a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths in her arms. I had shared letters with the eldest Stark girl ever since my eighth birthday, though we had never met in person. On King Eddard's left stood his two sons, both of which took after their father and a black haired Dornish-looking girl who must have been Joanna Snow, Eddard Stark's mysterious bastard. No one at court was entirely sure who the girl's mother was, but my mother took extreme pleasure in spreading rumours that it was Lyanna Stark, Eddard's sister - even though that didn't explain the Dornish looks in the slightest.

_Not that anyone believes that anyway. Most courtiers talk of Ashara Dayne._

My father vaulted of his horse and marched forward to embrace King Eddard, showing surprising strength for a man of his width. He bellowed "Ned! It's been far too long!" He pulled the King of Northos into a hug.

"It's good to see you too Robert" Eddard replied, returning the embrace.

"How long has it been Ned" asked my father, I haven't seen you since that idiot Balon Greyjoy decided to rebel! Ah, those were the days!"

_Hundreds died._

"Ten years or near enough. You've been busy running the south doubtless." Quietly, my mother snorted. As did my father.

_Jon Arryn does most of the running really. Or at least he did before he died and Lord Hoster took over._

My father processed down the line, greeting each of the Stark children and Queen Catelyn in turn, asking about ages and desires, ruffling the youngest's hair. I could see the youngest girl - a miniature of her mother and sisters - was struggling to behave herself, to the amusement of both her siblings and my father.

_I wonder where their Direwolves are?_

My father spoke again. "I would like to see your crypts Ned. I wish to pay my respects." I resisted the urge to facepalm, contenting myself to sigh once again. While I could understand the depths of my father's loss in the rebellion (even if it had been fifteen years ago), I wished that he would avoid saying such things in front of my mother who was upset. Moments like this were when...well, when I could understand some of my mother's attitude. Living with a loveless husband could not be easy.

_But I would still not take it out on my children._

"We've been travelling for days, my Love. Surely the dead can wait" she asked. My father shot her a cold glare in response before he was led off with an apologetic look by King Eddard. Already the trip was going terribly. I wondered what the man thought of our family. Had he expected it to be more like his own perhaps? I doubted Queen Catelyn was ever unkind to her children, perhaps even not her husband's bastard if the girl's place in the line was any indication. Robyn's letters always spoke of her parents and siblings; of how wonderful they were.

_Not like mine. Not like King's Landing._

Sighing once more, I stepped forwards to be introduced to the Stark children.

"May I introduce the heir to the Iron Throne" began my mother, "My son Joffrey - as well as Tommen, Lana and Cassana." I noticed the 'heir' was attempting to give Robyn a smile, but failing due to her fussing over her child.

_No doubt mother has ordered him to seduce her. Idiots._

Queen Catelyn preceded to introduce her own offspring, Robyn - who I already knew, Sansa, Brandon, Arya and Rickard. Interesting, she also introduced her husband's bastard (to my mother's infuriation) with a surprising lack of anger or unhappiness. Most woman of the south would have been furious to have such an obvious threat to their children raised by them, even those from the Justman territory of the Riverlands. Very odd...and curious.

"Hello" said Robyn, once my mother had allowed herself to be escorted to her rooms ( _thank gods!_ ). "You must be Cass."

"Well we were just introduced to each other" I replied. Robyn smirked.

"Ah, but formal introductions can only go so far" she said, "Same with letters. You look completely different to how I imagined you from what you wrote."

"As do you" I snarked back, "I always thought that Stark eyes glowed." She frowned slightly.

"Only rarely" she replied, "When I've done too much magic, that sort of thing." I noticed Tommen had been dragged off by the younger Stark children, Joffrey and Lanna sticking to mother's side. "Do you fancy a tour?"

"I hardly have anything better to do" I replied after a moment's thought, "So sure."

 

**Extras 9**

**The Royal Court of Robert I of House Baratheon**

**Royal Family**  
_King on the Iron Throne:_ Robert I of House Baratheon, King of Seven Kingdoms, Chosen of the Seven and the Storm King, Wielder of Darkfall.  
_Queen Consort:_ Cersei of House Lannister  
_Heir to the Iron Throne:_ Joffrey of House Baratheon  
_Other Royal Children:_ Cassana Baratheon, Tommen Baratheon, Lanna Baratheon

 **Small Council**  
_Regent_ : Stannis Baratheon  
_Hand_ _of_ _the_ _King_ : Hoster Justman  
_Master_ _of_ _Coin_ : Petyr Baelish  
_Master_ _of_ _Laws_ : Renly Baratheon  
_Master_ _of_ _Whispers_ : Varys  
_Master_ _of_ _Ships_ : Paxter Redwyne  
_Grand_ _Maester_ : Pycelle  
_King's_ _Historian_ : Maegar  
_Master_ _of_ _Arms_ : Cortnay Penrose

 **Kingsguard**  
_Lord_ _Commander_ : Ser Barristan Selmy 'the Bold'  
Ser Jaime Lannister 'the Kingslayer'  
Ser Mandon Moore  
Ser Boros Blount  
Ser Meryn Trant  
Ser Arys Oakheart  
Ser Preston Greenfield

 **Lords Paramount**  
_The_ _Reach_ : Mace Tyrell  
_The_ _Stormlands_ : Renly Baratheon  
_The_ _Narrow_ _Sea_ : Stannis Baratheon  
_The_ _Westerlands_ : Tywin Lannister  
_The_ _Riverlands_ : Hoster Justman  
_The_ _Vale_ : Robert Arryn  
_The_ _Iron_ _Islands_ : Rodrick Harlaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 13/12/16


	10. Robyn I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hearing Voices is the First Sign of Madness...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 10**

Robyn Stark

The City of Winterfell, Capital of Northos - 22nd Minumfest, 299AC

  
"You will never be together again."

The bastard had haunted my dreams since that day. His grinning face as he stood tied to the heart's tree, his last jeers and taunts, the blood pooling from his mouth onto the icy ground below. The howl of the one eyed direwolf in the distance.

"Your beloved Domeric died screaming your name."

I had taken his head, stabbed him through the heart in the Winterfell godswood and yet I still was not free of him - or what he had done.

_Domeric..._

Four months later and still as raw as ever. Sixteen years and already a widow. We had heard the rumours of a Bolton bastard near the Weeping Water. Domeric had been joyous at the prospect of having his own siblings, seeing my family's relationship with my father's baseborn child. And I had been excited for him, encouraged him to seek at his bastard brother, believing his brother would be as good as my own sisters and brothers were.

_Why wouldn't he have been? How do you breed a monster like that?_

The bastard had met him warmly, embraced him as a brother and invited him into his home. He even gave bread and salt, a pact which any other man would have considered beyond unbreakable. A pact which the gods themselves enforced. But the bastard, that bastard flayed my Domeric alive.

_I didn't know! I'm sorry! I couldn't have known! It's not my fault Domeric, it's not!_

_I didn't want you to die._

He had barely known Cregan, our son who even now lay quietly sleeping in a crib in the corner of my old room. Occasionally he would make a small mumble in his sleep as something moved in his sleeping mind. With quiet steps - so I would not wake him - I got out of my bed and walked over to his. He wasn't old enough yet to have a full head of hair, only a tuft of red hair inherited from me - and my mother. I suspected his eyes would take after me as well, though at the moment it was unconfirmed; as many babies were born with blue eyes. Roose Bolton had not been pleased about that fact and I suspected he was responsible for the rumours that Cregan was a bastard himself - another man's son. Which was ludicrous.

_I would never have done such a thing. A Stark always does their duty and mine was to bear a trueborn heir for the Winter Throne. And I loved Domeric, I never could have broken his trust in me._

It had not been easy at first when we married. Both of us cried during the bedding, I because of pain and Domeric, sweet kind Domeric because of the pain he was forced to cause me. My mother had described the bedding as painful, but even the foreknowledge had been no comfort. But we had moved on, moved past the pain and awkwardness and in those quiet months at Laketown forged a connection. Like my parents - love comes after the wedding, not before. Only a child believes in courtly love.

"He never loved you" came the bastard's voice again, "You were merely an object to improve his house's standing."

"Shut Up!" I growled to the empty room.  I glanced down at Cregan again, worried that I had woken him with my anger, but thankfully he slept on with a smile on his little face. My dreams had got even worse since I had returned to Winterfell. They had been dark since Domeric's death, filled with death and ruin coming to my family and Northos as a whole. But at least then they were infrequent in my little keep in Laketown. Here, barely a night went by without a nightmare and the voices continued to grow louder. The lack of sleep affected my mood - I was quick to anger, quick to retreat into the godswood. It was safer for everyone that I stayed there rather than hurt someone if my fury got the better of me. One horrible time I had nearly hit poor Arya with a blast of ice magic, a shock that had been bad enough for me to retreat to the godswood for an entire day, seeking guidance from the Old Gods. The peacefulness of the wooden glade helped me to meditate and calm my anxieties; even if it was marred by the two executions I had carried out before the Heart Tree.

_"I see three deaths for you, Robyn Stark."_

I was reminded once again of the prophecy the Wolf Lord had spoken to me upon my own tenth birthday, just as Arya had received her own visions earlier this month. Three deaths and all of them connected to me. But were the deaths mine or someone close to me? If the latter, then poor Domeric was the likely 'first' death. But if the former...one of them could have already happened with the birth of Cregan. The experience of childbirth had nearly killed me; apparently should have killed me according to Grand Maester Luwin. I had been forced to sleep for an entire week afterwards, trapped in a deep coma and wracked with fever. I could barely remember it now - myself screaming in agony, Domeric clutching my hand...

_"Don't leave me"_

Apparently only divine intervention could have saved me from the damage done to my womb, a theory of Luwin's supported by the increase of my otherblood powers since that day. Ice casting that once would have been near impossible for me to manage was now as simple as breathing. I hadn't tried resurrecting the dead (for obvious reasons) but I feared that if I tried now I would actually be able to accomplish it. And on top of that the voices, including _her_ voice had grown louder than ever before.

**"You have nothing to fear little one. Accept my gifts."**

"No!" I had first heard _her_ voice three months after my meeting with the Wolf Lord; but even before that I had known of it - been raised with the knowledge that my thoughts were never truly private. The-Voice-of-Winter as _she_ was named in the private histories of the Starks had haunted my family's firstborns - the Otherbloods - since the days of the Night's King. _She_ was a constant pressure, an endless temptation to our line to accept the full powers of the Chosen Rulers of Night: but at the cost of surrendering our own will and bringing eternal winter onto the realms of men. And that would surely result in mankind's extinction as the Old Gods had foretold.

**"The Gods lie. They scramble among themselves for power; they do not care for you! You or any other mortal! You are nothing but insects to them! Nothing but pieces on a board!"**

I whimpered and raced to a bedside cabinet where I kept the few belongings I had been able to bring with me. In the top drawer was kept a vial containing a special selection of herbs from Qohor designed to dull the mind, or at least the magical aspects of it. The mixture was expensive - moreso due to the distance than any rarity - but was one of the few things capable of resisting the direct influence of a god. Which was it was so valuable to me.

_Will Cregan have to eat these when he's older? Will he have the same issues I have?_

Father had brought the mixture for me soon after my thirteenth birthday, when I truly started to show signs of the influence of the Voice, yelling at thin air and waking up screaming from cruel nightmares. Before Cregan's birth I had usually only needed to take one a month; two in the case of a very cold one. But now I had to take some herbs three times a week on average, and even that did nothing to help with the nightmares.

_I am a Stark. I must endure._

\----------------

The Great Hall of Winterfell glowed invitingly in the early morning light. On four long tables the denizens of Winterfell sat breaking their fast, now joined of course by the members of King Robert's court who had chosen to take the journey north. Speaking of the southern king, he sat next to my father on the high table with his family and mine mixed in around them. Arya and Bran were having a spirited chat with Tommen Baratheon, while Sansa made awkward conversation with the older brother Joffrey. I myself squeezed in between my mother and Joanna, before pulling some bread towards me. Cregan had been left with a wet nurse. Mother squeezed my hand briefly in greeting, before she was forced to go back to entertaining Queen Cersei.

"Did you sleep well?" Joanna asked, taking a sip of wine. She had arrived back from Bear Island only a few days ago, her appearance being met with a small feast and an a adorable flying tackle from Rickard. She was more muscled than I remembered, though roughly the same height and with the same angular features.

"Decently" I replied. In reality I had been troubled with nightmares once more; but telling Joanna would only worry her - not to mention mother sitting next to me. "You?"

"I had the dream with the monkey again" Joanna muttered.

"The one that could screech 'Kakstark and Gardener'?" I questioned with a large smile. That would be the third time since the blasted thing had managed to escape from the market to rampage around Winterfell - especially Joanna's room. It had been one of the varieties from far eastern Essos - a 'Little Valyrian' if I wasn't mistaken. The owner had brought it to the market so he could try and sell it as a pet.

"The same" Joanna confirmed with a sigh, "Only this time it was 'The Rains of Castamere'. My ears are still ringing."

"Poor you" I teased, "and poor monkey. 'It's more scared of you than you are it, my Princess'." I impersonated the trader who had first brought the monkey here, a Tyroshi in nationality. To be fair what he said was most likely accurate, because at least my sister was familiar with Northos. It was probably the cold as much as anything, as any owner of animals not native to the northern continent could tell you. Direwolves, Snow Bears and Mammoths all had large coats to keep them warm during the worst nights. Southern animals did not and would often behave oddly in the northern realms.

My sister however, was not impressed.

"Ha-ha; you didn't have it leap out at you from your closet" she deadpanned, "My scream was entirely justified."

_You were screaming for five minutes straight. That's not what I would call justified._

As Jo and I continued to speak, I kept one eye on the rest of the hall. In the far corner a gaggle of Baratheon soldiers were staring at Bworn the Woodsman, a literal Giant who had moved here from Last Hearth some years ago. On the table close to the right wall a few Children of the Forest sat, glaring suspiciously at all the newcomers. Usually the family direwolves would have been nearby feeding on their own scraps, but by order of my father all of them except my parents' wolves (Rodrick and Brynden) were confined to the kennels to avoid scaring our visitors. The two released wolves were sat a few metres away, ears pricked up and eyes ever watchful.

The direwolf population south of the Wall had never been large, limited to the few parks owned by the Starks or their cadets and the occasional group that would pop up in a forest. The wolves were traditionally bonded with an owner at the age of five, Rickard having received his only a few months back. People who married into the family would receive a companion as soon as possible, though in my mother's case that was instantly as she spent most of the rebellion in the Riverlands (though with Stark men on hand to ferry her across the sea in the event of a Targaryen victory). Of course, there were exceptions to both of these such as Adara - formerly my Aunt Lyanna's direwolf - who had 'adopted' Sansa when she was born.

The sound of a cough alerted both me and Joanna to another's presence. On Jo's other side was sat Princess Cassana - half hiding behind her hair and casting the occasional glance to where her mother was sat on my mother's other side. She blushed when we both turned to face her.

_Probably worried someone will get worried at her sitting near a baseborn child. More likely her court than father's, they've seen me running around with Joanna since we were toddlers._

"Sorry" she muttered, "Uh, your brother mentioned something to mine about crypts?"

"I imagine he meant the tombs" I replied, "Where all our ancestors have been buried since Winterfell was built." I gestured to myself and Joanna. "Plus various old artifacts; the dead rulers' crowns, random weapons, any Targaryen diplomatic gifts."

_The Ice._

"Are they viewable?" she asked, "To non-family, I mean - gods, I'm stumbling over my words again." Joanna shrugged.

"I don't see why they wouldn't be" she said, "The statues will kill anyone who tries to steal anything." Well, the rumours say it's the statues that kill robbers. Usually we only find the skeletons a few months later.

"Wait...kill?" Cassana begun, looking faintly disturbed.

"That being said" I cut in, "The lower levels are inaccessible and many of the family vaults are locked up. You wouldn't need to worry about stumbling on anything dangerous." I may or may not have been smiling evilly while saying this. As it happens Cassana wasn't convinced and Jo was trying to hold in her giggles.

_We're probably being slightly too rotten._

"I think I'll just go for a walk instead then" Cassana replied, "Unless there's a squisher hanging about somewhere I could run into?" I wasn't entirely sure if she was joking.

"No squishers" I replied, "a few mammoths, some Giants and Children of the Forest - maybe even Joanna's monkey friend!"

"Robyn!" Joanna growled. Cassana looked confused, but decided it wasn't wise to question my comment.

"I think I'll be fine" Cassana said, "But I'll bully a kingsguard into coming with me. Just in case."

 

**Extras 10**

**The Night's King and the Great Betrayal, Unknown Writer**

The First Long Night ended in a complete victory for the allied forces of the First Men, the Children of the Forest and the Giants with the Others and their servants being forced into the far north. However  the many consequences - some of which would only become apparent with time - proved a strain on the relationship between the allied races. One of these consequences was the creation of the Wall and the Winter's Watch to forever guard the southern realms from the primordials of the far north. Sworn to no one, no kings or lords - not even the great house of Stark, rulers of Northos. Those who said the oaths of the Watch had one duty: prevent the Others and their servants from ever crossing the wall again.

But there was one time that they failed.

The story of the Night's King begun with the second son of the Lord of Winterfell forsaking the opportunity for a future and swearing himself to the Winter's Watch. This was not unusual, as many Starks had joined the Watch in the past and would continue to do so long after these events. The son, a quiet but honourable fellow by all surviving accounts quickly rose to the leadership of the Nightfort, oldest of the castles on the watch. For his first three years as Lord Commander he led the watch with the honour and wisdom one would expect. He kept good relationships with the Free Folk and even repaired some of the fracturing friendships with the Children and the Giants.

But then, the period of glory passed.

The problem and the reason for his name being stuck from the histories is the result of a ranging he took far beyond the wall, deep into the former lands of the Others. The lords of frost had vanished into the Lands of Always Winter by this time, so all knowledge pointed towards this being just another ranging beyond the Wall. But according to the legends of the Free Folk (and the 'Tome of Jeor' looked in the depths of Winterfell) he found a 'cold' woman lying naked in the snow. And this was no ordinary woman. The product of a wildling woman (often referred to as Larna)...and the current Night's Queen. And the Voice-of-Winter was with her and in her soul. The Stark being a honourable man stopped to help her and took her back to his camp - clothed in a spare black cloak of his. The woman revealed herself to be suffering from amnesia (it is unknown whether she was lying) and begged the White Brothers to let her follow them, as she had nowhere else to go. Knowing that the savager tribes would likely kill her without provocation (and somewhat enthralled by the woman's presence), the Stark agreed.

At this point in time there was no oath preventing White Brothers from taking a wife or having children, though the families were confined to the small town outside each fort. And not nearly a year after finding her, the Stark took Larna to wife. But the corruption was already manifesting itself in the two of them, cold no longer harming them, frost growing at their meer presence: other men and women being enthralled by their power. In far too short a time the effects had spread to the entirety of the Nightfort. It was only then that the other forts realised just what had happened.

We will not discuss the war waged against the Night's King and his bride here, as it is well known that it was an absolutely terrible conflict. Many men under Brandon the Breaker and Joramun the Wildling King perished to bring down the uprising of the possessed brothers. But the rebellion was put down and the Night's King and his bride burned and cut into a thousand pieces. But in some respects, the army was too late.

For from the marriage bed of the cursed, a child had been born. A daughter, named Lyanna. And unwilling to murder a child of his brother's, the Breaker took the girl home and raised her with his own son Rickard and daughter Adara. As she grew she displayed the traits of an Other sparingly, but under advice given by the Wolf Lord was shielded from the Voice by aid of a wierwood bracelet. And later, the girl fell in love with her cousin Rickard and on the former King's deathbed begged for permission to marry him. Unable again to refuse his brother's seed, the union was blessed and bedded. And from the line of Rickard and Lyanna sprung the Otherbloods.

_Seven Hells for Seven Gods. Seven Gods for Seven Swords. Seven Swords for Seven Voices._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 5/1/2017


	11. Cersei I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best Laid Plans...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 11**

Cersei Lannister

The City of Winterfell, Northos - 25th Minumfest 299AC

 

_How dare they treat the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in such a manner!_

From the start of our unfortunate journey here, I had not been impressed or pleased in the slightest about the visit to Northos Robert had forced upon me and the rest of my family. How could he dare to call himself a father or a husband, after subjecting us to this? A freezing barren landscape, covered with frost - no colour at all in this frozen realm. And their cities weren't any better, filled with peasants who didn't even acknowledge the passing of the rightful king and queen! Dirty brown houses, none of the opulence or splendour you would expect in a city - let alone a capital! And Winterfell itself was a dour grey construction, as cheerless as the people inside.

And Robert forced us all to embarrass ourselves in front of these heathens. To be forced to treat them as if they were equals, or even our superiors in some cases. Lies! They should have been falling down on their feet before us, feeling glorified by our mere presence in their barbaric lands. Even the former southerners such as Catelyn Justman were treating us as foreign allies rather than the superiors we were. She dared to treat me as an equal! I, the Queen of Westeros.

_I will not stand to be treated in such a manner. Not by her or anyone else._

The fool Targaryens should have conquered Northos and forced them to become just another kingdom. A weak, ignorable one with no delusions of grandeur. They had the power - that ice dragon the savages worshipped as a god may have defeated ten or twenty Valyrian freehold dragons in combat, but never more than two at the same time. Against three fully grown dragons the beast would have fallen easily. But proving themselves to be craven, they didn't even try to conquer the continent and instead allowed the Starks to get their false ideas of royalty. Strong Aegon, fierce Visenya, cunning Rhaenrys. Cowards all three of them.

_But that is the past. The future is still to play for._

For too long the continents had stood separate, under different bloodlines. The Starks to the north and the Martells, the Yronwoods and even the Koridans on their islands to the south. Robert was too foolish to think of uniting the continents; even when he had the power and the oppotunity, with the rulers of Northos, Eastern Dorne and Western Dorne all being present in his keep - a perfect opportunity for them to submit to their betters. All their talk of power would disappear the moment their lives were under threat, just like all men. Even my father had never thought of such a project as uniting the Kingdoms under the Lannister bloodline. And perhaps later, all the known world...

_But I have and I know exactly how to do so._

This was the reason I was waiting for my brother - my only true brother - in an old tower at the edge of Winterfell, out of sight of the Starks, their men and their wargs. From down below I could hear the hustle of the city and castle - shouting guards, chatting maids, a dog barking - and the occasional howling of a direwolf. I had not yet seen any of the Stark children direwolves thankfully, as they had all been locked up to avoid scaring our horses. Unfortunately the adult animals had not been imprisoned, their masters allowing them to lurk behind our table for the entire feast. My comments to Robert about it had only resulted in laughter and a polite assurance from Lady Catelyn that the animals were well trained. As if anyone could train those sort of animals. Cassana, my foolish firstborn had gone looking for the kennels, asking the oldest of the Stark children Robyn and the bastard to show them to her.

_That girl has learnt nothing about associating with our lessers._

Before coming here I would have considered it a shame that the Stark girl and her second sister would need to die for my plans to succeed. As she was, she could have made a fine bride for Joffrey and an easier way to bind the kingdoms into one. But her father, unfortunately had the ridiculous idea that she would follow him as ruler of Northos. Their bannermen would laugh at a girl like that commanding them; weak, naive.

But after the events of yesterday, I was glad that she would meet her end.

\----------------

It had happened in the castle training grounds, a grey stone courtyard vainly burdened with various versions of the Stark banner. Apparently it was traditional for them to display the multiple versions of their crest here: the crowned direwolf, the flipped crest of the heir, the solitary head used for individuals, various personal crests from history - including a foul one depicting a naked child riding the wolf.

Joffrey, my darling had already done his training for the day, defeating a member of the kingsguard - though not his father - with ease. Now he sat up in the overlooking balcony with me and my ladies as Tommen tried and failed to live up to his brother's example. Even sparring against a northerner - Prince Brandon Stark - he was making little progress, despite the obvious difference in standards.

_Joffrey needs a heir as soon as possible, or else Tommen's weakness will sit on the throne._

With a booming clang Tommen was knocked onto his back, his training sword and shield spinning away from him. As he struggled to stand up, I noticed his blonde curls were caked in mud - ironically making him look more like his 'official' father and less like a Lannister. Weakling. The Stark boy reached down, likely to further show him up. I didn't bother rising from my seat.

But my brave Joffrey did. Criticising Tommen for his poor showing, he marched down to the training ground and declared "I will show this wolf how a true prince fights!" In one smooth, solid movement my son drew his blade and raised it into a perfect swordsman's salute. While the boy did not deserve the honour, I was still proud to see how my son recognised his duties. Unfortunately the Master-at-arms (a Ser Rodrick) decided to intervene, embarrassing my son by demanding he use cheap practice swords unbefitting of his status.

"Is the boy craven?" said Joffrey, "Is he too much of a baby to fight like a man?" He advanced on the boy, Brandon Stark cowering behind his shield - face burning red from rightful shame. Rodrick further protested, even daring to place his hand on the pommel on his sword. If this had been King's Landing I would have taken his neck; as it happened I rose and gestured for my guards to converge on Joffrey while I made my way down from the balcony. But my son did not notice any of this. Knocking the stupid Stark boy's sword aside with one fluid stroke, he brought the sword upwards to meet the coward's neck.

Only to be suddenly blasted backwards with a rush of winter air, as the boy's eldest sisters appeared in the courtyard. Robyn Stark, Joanna Snow and embarrassingly my own daughter Cassana strode across the ground - or at least the two Northerners did, Cassana racing to place herself between Joffrey and the Stark boy. I was disturbed to notice that the red haired girl's eyes were harshly glowing, shining with the light of a blue star.

 **"What do you think you're doing?"** spat Robyn, a knife of ice phasing into existence in her hand. She advanced on Joffrey only to be stopped by Cassana moving into place and dragging Joffrey to his feet. Unconsciously I noticed her gesturing for one of the Kingsguard to get Tommen out of danger. But her next words removed any gratitude I could have borne her.

"Joffrey you idiot!" she said, brushing the worst of the dirt off him. "What do you think you're doing? Behaving like a child? You'll embarrass us in front of our hosts!" She cut of his entirely justified protests with a finger to the lips. "If the Master-at-Arms says you're not to use live steel, then you don't use live steel. Apologise to them!"

_Apologise to them? They should be apologising to us you stupid girl!_

Joffrey wisely agreed with me. "I was just showing the boy how a true man fights!" he spat, "It was his fault for-"

"It was your fault for trying to show off like a prat" Cassana interrupted, "Now apologise or I fetch father." Behind the two of them I could see Brandon Stark being checked over by the Bastard, while Robyn and Ser Rodrick stood guard. Thankfully the glow in the Otherblood's eyes had diminished, though she was still frowning heavily.

"I..." At his sisters glare Joffrey wilted, muttered "Sorry" and stomped off. The Starks watched him go with narrowed eyes, but when Robyn turned back to Cassana I could tell she was smiling. I on the other hand, sped from the room - intent on telling my own account of the story to Robert. But I would have words with my daughter later.

_How dare she mock her own kin. Has she no loyalty?_

The last thing I heard was Cassana calling Joffrey "a harmless prat".

\----------------

A knock from the door brought me back to the present. Gathering my thoughts I ordered "Enter" in my queen's voice, that formal, powerful tone I would adopt whenever I was in public. A tall, blonde and beautiful man stepped inside and quickly shut the door behind him; pausing for a second to listen for eavesdroppers. After a few moments he straightened up satisfied and turned to face me.

"Jaime" I said gliding forwards and embracing him. I guided our lips together, my hands sliding to his shoulders. It was only alone that we could truly show our affections for each other due to the ridiculous laws the Seven Kingdoms had on incest, all of the gods (except of course the Valyrian Pantheon) condemning it as an abomination. But they knew nothing, understood none of the longing my twin and I felt for each other. We had been forced to hide our love to protect my position as queen and my children.

_Joffrey can repel those laws once he's king. The Targaryen's practised incest, what's so wrong about us doing it. We were born together._

The exception sadly was Cassana, who had somehow managed to slip through despite my efforts. That was the reason why I wanted her married into Northos, so she was not a threat to my true Lannister children. While I loved the girl - truly for she was from my seed - I could never trust the spawn of Robert. She had inherited far too much from him to be considered a Lannister.

"Sweet Sister" Jaime said kissing me hungrily, "I hope you have a decent reason why we have to do this here and not in your bedchambers. The mattress here isn't anywhere near as good."

"You know these savages probably have spies anywhere Jaime" I replied, "Gods know the Red Keep is crawling with them." From Varys, Baelish and myself, plus gods know who else.

"But no spies managed to find us in the Red Keep" Jaime said, as smugly as possible, "And we were hardly discreet. What chance do the Starks have of finding out our little secret." He spun me around with a smirk.

_Typical Jaime, always underestimating our enemies._

Now for the real reason we were talking here. "I want us to be together as much as you do brother, but first I need you to do something for me, for our children." Not that you've ever cared for them, but still every little helps.

"Anything Cersei, you know I cannot deny you." Good. Unlike Robert, Jaime understood his place in our relationship, knowing _I was the Queen_ even if he was the man in our relationship. Though I know I would have been the one in power if our positions were reversed, with Jaime the woman and I the man.

"You must kill the oldest two daughters of Eddard Stark" I ordered, "Once they are dead Cassana can marry the oldest son and we will control Northos." At that, Jaime pulled back in apparent shock. Odd, you wouldn't think he would find it a problem after his actions. The realm already knows you as a Kingslayer.

"They are only children Cersei" he replied in horror, "Innocents, who've done nothing to us. We can't murder children just so Cassana can have a good marriage."

 _Fool_. _Coward._

I slapped his face in anger. "This isn't about the children idiot" I spat, "This is about power, our power over these savages who believe they are superior to us. Besides which, the oldest girl is a woman grown now with her own child."

"It's still not a good idea sister" Jaime said, "What if we are found out? They'll kill you and torture me for information!"

_They wouldn't dare. I am the Queen._

A sudden sound came from outside the door, a scuffle of boots on the stone floor of the tower. Quick as lightning, Jaime yanked open the door to reveal the oldest Stark boy listening in on us. I gasped in shock as Jaime pulled the boy into the tower. This was terrible, not only could he have heard my plans for his sisters but the truth of mine and Jaime's relationship as well!

"How much did you hear boy!" demanded Jaime, with his hand on his sword.

"I heard enough!" shouted the boy, "You plan to murder Rob and Sansa! I won't let you!" He struggled in Jaime's grip, trying to kick him in the groin and stomach. As I feared then. The plans I had made so carefully for the unification of the kingdoms would have to be rethought, remade at a later date. The girls could live for now. But first...

"Kill him Jaime!" I demanded, "He's heard too much, we can't let him tell anyone." Jaime looked reluctantly between me and the boy, who struggled to get free. Curse his craven heart, I would have already stabbed him. "Do it!"

_Do not defy me._

"I'll scream for help" the boy threatened, "You won't leave this tower alive."

"Perhaps" Jaime replied, before sadly plunging his sword deep into the boy's neck. The boy gasped, a scream failing to rise from his throat. Then he fell to the floor dead.

From outside a direwolf howled.

 

**Extras 11**

**Extract from 'Aegon's Conquest' by Historian Aemon**

And so it came to pass that Aegon Targaryen, first of his name was crowned by the High Septon of Oldtown in the sight of the Seven-who-are-one, despite his personal following of the Valyrian Pantheon.The new King immediately set to properly unifying his kingdom, establishing treaties between the Lord Paramounts and restoring order to the land where war had hit the hardest. Those who had joined him were rewarded greatly and those who had surrendered were allowed to kick their wounds and recover. At the mouth of the Blackwater (later the Bloodwater) the City of King's Landing was founded, merchants flocking to the new centre of trade.

Two of the most fundamental aspects of the Targaryen rule came from this era immediately after the conclusion of the conquest. The first was the creation of the Crownlands, the area of Westeros directly sworn to the King. The region was centered on Blackwater Bay, carved out of the Riverlands and the Stormlands. The second was the beginning of Aegon's efforts to write up a code of law for his new kingdom, an effort that would only be eventually finished by his eldest son Aenys, known as the Wise. This code would see many modifications over the coming centuries, not all of them for the best.

This era also saw the establishment of the first inta-kingdom treaties. The first treaty arranged was with the Koridans to the far south, who were deemed an difficult if not impossible conquest by Aegon, both due to the distance and the rumours of the artifacts kept in the Deepcore. The Koridans happily accepted the Targaryen rule over the Seven Kingdoms excluding Dorne (not that they could have intervened if they disliked the idea) and gifted him with a crown made of skysteel as a sign of peace. The High Lord of Koridoran (a Doran Koridan) promised to provide aid to Aegon in setting up his kingdom in return for preferential trade agreements.

The second treaty arranged was with the Starks to the far north. To avoid angering the ancient Ice Dragon/God/Thing Frostwing, the King of Winter Torrhen Stark agreed to meet King Aegon on Greywater Isle, the domain of House Reed. There under the watchful eye of the White Raven, they established the Treaty of Greywater, a pact of mutual benefit and non-aggression that has only been broken twice since. They also agreed that Torrhen's first born daughter would marry Aegon's heir and that Aegon's first born daughter would marry Torrhen's heir.

Afterwards, with his kingdom's neighbors secured Aegon returned to the city that would become King's Landing to further organise his kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 18/02/17


	12. Edmure I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the Storm...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 12**

Edmure Justman

Oldstones, Capital of the Riverlands - 23rd Minumfest, 299AC

 

The golden scales of House Justman blew in the sea breeze coming into the port of Oldstones by way of the Slash. The settlement had originally been the domain of House Mudd, one of the earliest families claiming the title of King of the Rivers. But during the invasion of the Andal people the Mudd line was driven into extinction and the ancient settlement that burnt and looted. Many Riverland houses had attempted to claim kingship in the vacuum of power that followed, but all had failed in the end.

Until that is, the birth of a bastard of Houses Blackwood and Bracken - two houses that had quarrelled for so long that neither could remember the original reason for the quarrel. Benedict Rivers, as the boy was named grew to become the greatest knight of his generation, earning himself the epithet 'the Just'. And following a four way war between the Brackens, the Blackwoods, the Ironborn and the Storm Kings he had crowned himself King of the Rivers and set to unifying and bringing peace to the former Mudd realm. Thousands flocked to his banner and name in response, including large parts of his opponents armies for even his enemies loved him. His resulting victories were so great that all of the four former combatants in the war were forced to pay homage to him, Bracken and Blackwood in particular being forced to bend knee before their bastard son. It was rumoured in song that if he wished to he could have unified Westeros thousands of years before anyone had even heard the name Targaryen. But Benedict was not greedy and instead set his mind to bringing the Riverlands back into prosperity. And on the coast on the Riverlands, he rebuilt the old Mudd capital as a symbol of both old and new.

When he eventually died as all men must, the Riverlands and its neighbours had mourned for years over the loss of the one the greatest men to ever live. All across Westeros prayers were said in septs and the Justman banner was flown in respect. As one the lords also supported his eldest son's rise to the River Throne - an rarity in any kingdom, let alone the usually disorganised Riverlands. And from that son rose the Great House of Justman - noblest, bravest and most honoured Great House of Westeros...

_...And from that root sprung me and my father._

As I stood on the balcony of the castle with my hair blowing in the wind, I pondered again the trade coming into the port of Oldstones. In recent years, we had been feeling the effects of the rise of Freyport to the east as well as the lingering after-effects of the Ironborn rebellion from ten years past. I personally suspected the Late Lord Walder had payed off the Ironborn from attacking his city, as Freyport had suffered no raids during a war which seemed to strike everywhere else. It wouldn't be out of character for Walder, who had always cared more for his own family's power rather than anything else; surely he would jump at the chance to elevate himself above his fellow lords. Not even the smallfolk under his power seemed to be of concern to the man, considering that I got more petitioners from Freyport than anywhere else in the Riverlands - with the exception of Oldstones of course. His behaviour had also affected that of his kin, with all his family acting like weasels rather than men, scrabbling over scraps of power. The rumours of Freyport soured any impression of the Riverlands; a town full of brothels, taverns and black markets.

_Well Roslin isn't like the rest of them._

From the balcony I looked back into the bedchamber shared with my wife, to check whether she had decided to wake from her slumber yet. I could just pick out the back of her head in the early morning light, the rest of her hidden under the dark golden bedsheets. If I had been closer I imagined I could have picked out the bulge of her belly, heavy with my child. I had not been happy that my father had chosen a Frey bride - especially as he was constantly busy in King's Landing, leading me to rule the Riverlands in his place - but Roslin had proven to be nothing like the rest of her family; kind, loving and generous to those less fortunate. She was certainly different from the horror stories I had heard of Frey women, of faces and hearts like weasels.

_The fact that she takes after her mother is certainly a good thing._

From down in the city below, along the main thoroughfare that was the northern end of the Kingsroad leading to the capital; I could see a commotion happening involving several merchants. One of them, a Westerlands Dwarf who appeared to be some sort of herder was holding his axe up to the neck of a mammoth trader from Giant's Tooth, the home of the Greystarks having escaped northern justice during their rebellion. One of my ancestors had allowed them territory in return for fealty, a fact that had angered the Northmen for centuries. I sighed and hoped that the two wouldn't cause too much damage as fights involving dwarfs - especially drunk dwarfs - tended to be nasty and the Greystark were a paranoid bunch. Even among the Riverlords that is, a fractious bunch of houses with long-held grudges: Bracken and Blackwood, Mallister and Garin, Gardener and Greystark. Loyalty to their Lord Paramount did not translate to loyalty to each other.

A large number of these arguments stemmed from the many different cultures that inhabited the melting pot of the Riverlands. In the north and the northwest we had the remnants of the Rhoynar civilisation, led to these shores by the priestess Druselka. In the northeast we had the pseudo-Northmen around Giant's Toe. In the south we had Half-Stormlanders, Half-Reachmen and Half-Westermen - nearly all descending from some long ago conquest. And that wasn't even getting into the different religions; as the Riverlands had sects of Mother Rhoyne, the Seven, the Wolf Lord, the Sea Queen and the Stone God. Lomas Longstrider had described our lands as a patchwork quilt, a metaphor that I couldn't help but agree with.

A noise from the room disturbed my thoughts. I turned to see Roslin sitting up, dressed in a white nightgown and the silver whale pendent I had gifted her several months ago. Her rounded stomach was clearly visible in the loose nightdress. She didn't try standing up, knowing as well as I did that the baby would protest.

"Morning" I said, entering back into the room, "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as can be expected, considering him" she replied, resting a hand on her stomach. She was convinced that the child she was carrying would be a boy, despite not enquiring with any of the wandering seers or prophets that occasionally popped up in Oldstones.

_The Northern Riverlands have never had much time for prophecy._

The dislike originated from the landing of Druselka, second of the leaders in the great Rhoynar migration who had been led to the fertile Riverlands by the will of Mother Rhoyne herself and the great whale Tullmon. They had originally landed in Oldstones, but had been granted land in the west where House Garin had player constructed the mighty fortress nicknamed the Stoneship. They had been eternally loyal to House Justman for this kindness, so much so that many of them had died to protect their King or Queen (and later Lord or Lady). And their culture had exploded as a result, for the smallfolk loved the House of the Shark. Water Witches, Rhoynar shipbuilding, equal primogeniture - these traits were becoming more and more common, especially after my father had granted Barrowbridge to a cadet branch after the southern Frey's treachery.

_I expect my marriage to Roslin was to fix the wound that created between our two houses, for Gods know Old Walder would never admit to wrongdoing._

"You're daydreaming again my love" said Roslin, rising from the bed. "No doubt thinking of the problems of your kingdom."

"My father's kingdom, not mine" I replied, "Regardless of whether or not he is here or in King's Landing he is the rightful ruler of the Riverlands." Roslin smiled and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

"That doesn't make the kingdom any less yours, my love" she said, "The people love you for your kindness as do I."

The moment was ruined by a loud voice booming "Ah'll see ya dead mammoth-buggerer!" Fucking Dwarves.

 

**Extras 12**

**Extract from 'An Introduction to the Riverlands' by Historian Gregor**

**Lordly Houses of the Riverlands**

The Riverlands, as shown in previous chapters is one of the most diverse areas in Westeros, with many different cultures and peoples existing over the course of its long history. Many of these cultures exist to the present day and have given birth to diverse noble houses, which we will look at here.

**House Justman of Oldstones**

The Justmans are one of the most well regarded families in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, even from before the conquest. The Lord of Oldstones has always been known to serve with honour and a keen sense of duty, first as Kings then later as Lord Paramounts. Many a Targaryen queen or hand has come from the 'Just House', so much so that many a house has followed their decisions in war over the monarch's. They are currently red of hair and blue of eye due to the marriage of Hoster Justman to Minisa Tully. Their Castle is Oldstones Keep in the great city of Oldstones on the northern coast and their sigil in a golden hourglass embellished on white. Their words are 'Justice for All'

**House Goodman of the Goodfort**

The Goodmans originate from a cadet line of House Justman and have risen to be one of the most well-looked upon families in the Riverlands, even if they are not particularly powerful. Many fine knights have come from their line, including at least seven Kingsguard. Unlike their senior branch they are devout worshippers of the Seven, a situation that has occasionally caused issue due to their proximity to the Isle of Faces. They are brown of hair and blue of eye. Their castle is the Goodfort on the southern edge of the God's Eye lake and their sigil is a black swan carrying a infant embellished on black. Their words are 'For Justice'.

**House Tully of Riverrun**

The Tullys are one of the oldest families in the Riverlands. Trusted bannermen to the Justmans, they have many times served as regent to a young lord and guardians of the western edge of the Riverlands. They are well known for a key role in the slaying of the chimera Firtohmarah, whose bones have been fashioned into the spear Riversblood. They are red of hair and blue of eye. Their castle is Riverrun, built at the point where the Tumblestone meets the Red Fork. Their sigil is a silver trout leaping on a blue and red striped field and their words are 'Family, Duty, Honour'.

**House Bracken of Stone Hedge**

The Brackens are primarily known for their thousand year long feud with House Blackwood, the details of which are not worth bringing up here. Along with their rivals, they have the largest domains of any Riverlords (excluding the Justmans), though much of that is farmland. They are brown of hair and eye. Their castle is Stone Hedge, built along the Red Fork and their sigil is a red stallion upon a golden escutcheon on brown. Their words are 'Death to our Enemies!'

**House Blackwood of Raventree Hall**

The other part of the ancient feud, the Blackwoods' biggest claim to fame is their continued worship of the Wolf Lord - making them his most southerly adherents. They are also known for burying their dead below a dead weirwood Tree, a curious practice not shared by any other house. They are brown of hair and eye. Their castle is Raventree Hall, slightly north of the Red Fork and their sigil is a flock of ravens on scarlet surrounding a dead weirwood upon a black escutcheon. Their words are 'The Enemies of Death'.

**House Frey of Freyport**

The Freys are one of the powerful lordly houses in the Riverlands, having grown in strength constantly since their founding. They are however not very popular at the present time for a number of reasons. The House originally began as minor lords of a toll bridge, but would later succeed to the lordship of Freyport (then Grellport) following the Dance of the Dragons. Ironically, they would loose their bridge later following Robert's Rebellion. They are brown of hair and of eye. Their castle is Greyfield in the town of Freyport, east of Oldstones and their sigil is a blue tower embellished on silver-grey. Their words are 'We Stand Together'.

**House Garin of the Stoneship**

The Garins are the center of the Rhoynar culture in the Riverlands, being direct descendents from the priestess Druselka - leader of the separation from Nymeria's flight. They are known for being fiercely loyal to their Lord Paramounts even when not united by marriage - though such events are common as they are perhaps the House the Justmans have married into the most. They have a tense relationship with the Martells of Sunspear owing to both of them sharing the claim on being the true rulers of the Rhoynar people. This briefly burst into violence in the aftermath of the War of the Faiths and the invasion of Dorne by Tyrosh. They are brown of hair and eye. Their castle is the Stoneship, on the western coast of the Riverlands and their sigil is a blue shark swimming against green. Their words are 'Against Valyria'.

**House Mallister of Seaguard**

The Mallisters guard the western edge of the Riverlands against the Ironborn and share a long and deep enmity with them. Many a Lord Mallister has died fighting the blades of Ironborn and many a reaver has died before the walls of Seaguard. This fact is probably the reason why Balon Greyjoy was so eager to attack the city during his short-lived rebellion, a action that led to monstrous losses for both sides as the Mallisters are naturally good at fighting Ironborn. They are brown of hair and blue of eye. Their castle sits on the western coast of the Riverlands, south of the Stoneship and their sigil is a silver eagle displayed on a purple field. Their words are 'Above the Rest'.

**House Greystark of Giant's Toe**

The Greystarks are a house that has suffered much through the ages, though many times for actions they themselves have committed. They began as a simple cadet branch of House Stark, but dared to rise against the main branch in rebellion under the pretext that they had betrayed Northos to the Others. When the rebellion failed, the survivors fled south to seek the protection of House Justman. While they succeeded, the situation led to many wars between Northos and the Riverlands including two sacks of Oldstones, the twenty battles for Southpoint and the Black Dinner that led to the end of House Montoya. They are brown of hair and grey of eye. Their castle is the northern styled fortress of Giant's Toe close to the border with the Vale and their sigil is a grey wolf running on a blue field. Their words are 'Winter is Coming', identical to their parent branch.

**House Gardener of Lannfell**

A cadet branch of the former overlords of the Reach, the Gardeners were granted their land during the aftermath of a Westerland invasion of the Riverlands which was thwarted by Ryon Gardener and Kak Stark. They are notable for having a general dislike for House Tyrell as they consider them usupers. They are brown of hair and green of eye. Their castle is Lannfell on the northern edge of the God's Eye and their sigil is a Green Hand embellished on a blue field. Their words are 'To Keep the Garden Growing'.

**House Piper of Pinkmaiden**

The Pipers are one of the principal houses dedicated to the defence of the southern Riverlands, particularly from the Westerlands and the Reach. They are known for being particularly generous to their smallfolk and for allowing workers to take the seventh day off for rest. They have red hair and blue eyes. Their castle is Pinkmaiden in the southwestern Riverlands and their sigil is a pink dancing maiden in a swirl of white silk, over blue. Their words are 'Brave and Beautiful'.

**House Vance of Wayfarer's Rest**

The Vances are one of the many Andal houses that sprung up during the Andal Invasion of the Riverlands. They are notable for producing many fine warriors and having a bitter hatred for the Targaryens due to their prior prominence under the Faith Militant. They are brown of hair and eye. Their castle is Wayfarers Rest in the southern Westerlands and their sigil is quartered between a black star on white and two golden eyes in a golden ring on black. Their words are 'Dutious until Death'.

**House Mooton of Maidenpool**

The Mootons are known nowadays for being permanently impoverished due to siding with the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion. They are said in the current generation to be cowards as they did not send any troops during the Greyjoy Rebellion, though this may be due to their resentment for loosing territory. They are black of hair and brown of eye. Their castle is the Keep of Maidenpool in the town of the same name and their sigil is a red salmon on white, over a white field with a golden tressure. Their words are 'Wisdom and Strength'.

**House Selka of Barrowbridge**

The newest Great house in the Riverlands, the Selkas were razed to this position following the treachery of House Frey of Barrowbridge in Robert's Rebellion. They have inherited a large castle and decent lands, though some parts have been granted to other lords as a reward. They also control a large part of the trade heading into the northern Riverlands, though they are forbidden from charging above a certain amount. They are also known for being devout Mother Rhoyne worshippers, which is reflected in their sigil of a blue whale (presumably Tullmon) on a green background. They are brown of hair and eye. Their castle is in the central Riverlands and their words are 'Fair in Custom'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 07/04/17


	13. Daenerys I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely there are better candidates for King available?

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 13**

Daenerys Targaryen

Magister Illyrio's Manse, Pentos - 23rd Minumfest 299AC

 

I had barely seen my brother since the arrival of Jon Connington. Day after day, Viserys would stay locked in his rooms with the man, absorbing the tales of our family and of our former kingdoms. I had wished to be there as well, perhaps to hear the true story of the love between Rhaegar and Lyanna from someone who was present during the events. However, my brother refused and so while he was meeting Illyrio, I was told to roam around the manse, walk in the gardens and watching and be watched by Illyrio's new visitors.

_I've never seen so many people of Valyrian ancestry._

I had difficulty believing that the Old Blood had deigned to come here at all, let alone for no reward as my brother seemed to believe.

_Everyone else wants something from us, even Illyrio. Why should these people be any different?_

Still, to avoid waking the dragon my brother could be when angered I had done as demanded and allowed myself to be seen and not heard. After many days of this however, I had grown tired of walking the same halls all day and enquired with Magister Illyrio if I would be allowed to visit the market for a new dress.

_I don't think he wanted to allow me to do so._

Despite Magister Illyrio's wishes however, my brother had overheard and in an unusually good mood allowed me to leave the manse - though under heavy guard, of course. The guards led me towards the marketplace, with the servants of Illyrio following to ensure I did not have to carry any of my purchases.

"I want that red silk and that shade of black" I told the owner of one of the stalls. Of course, I would not be making the dress myself as Viserys and Illyrio were adamantly against me getting any calluses, thereby harming my prospects of marriage. The market place was filled with many people going about their business and selling their wares. There was a stall selling exotic plants from far-eastern Essos and Sothoryos, including a large sapling called a bloodoak. A dark skinned man was offering a variety of colourful birds including one he claimed was a phoenix - despite the fact that a true phoenix could very easily escape from any cage it was placed in. A woman was selling a large selection of potions including one called Shade of the evening. A massive person whose gender I could not identify was attempting to convince his current victim to buy a large ape who sat glumly in a cage. My attention was drawn away from them by a large ship which had just moored at the docks close to the market. A blue flag with the imprint of a bloody hand holding a chalice hung from the mast.

_The Koridans._

My guards, noticing the new arrivals formed ranks around me.

"We should return to the palace your grace" the oldest of them said, "It would not do well for someone of your rank to associate with those madmen." With the pressure of them behind me I gestured for one of the servants to carry the silk and began the journey back to the manse. Before I left the market however, I saw a tall black haired man - though with some grey hairs poking through - ride down the gangplank on a large furry mass. Doubtless, the odd furry creatures was one of the giant hamsters that inhabited the main island of Koridoran, resting place of the Fountain of Youth. Behind the man walked two figures in black armour - each carrying a greatsword on their backs. Seeing a balding man in magister's robes walking up to the Koridan, I slipped out from my guards and hid myself behind a awning to eavesdrop.

"My Lord Barum" began the magister, "Welcome to Pentos. May I enquire after your business?" I stifled a gasp. Barum Koridan was the High Lord - equivalent to king - of the Koridoran archipelago. He had been ruling the archipelago since before even my father's reign, as could be seen by the winkles on his face.

"Greetings magister" replied Barum, "I am merely here to ensure a trade agreement goes correctly for Koridoran. I assume that this will be no problem?" While the man spoke genially, I could hear a underlying threat in his voice. This was enforced by the man not taking his eyes of the sweating magister and the small smirk present on his face. Suddenly the man's eyes flicked towards me and I drew back in alarm from the awning. I did not protest further when the senior guard grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the market. When I glanced back a final time however, I could see that the Koridan's eyes were still focused upon me and his lips were stretched in a wide smile.

Viserys was waiting at the gates of the mansion. "You're late sister" he reprimanded, grabbing my arm hard enough to bruise and dragging me away from the guards. "You should have returned thirty minutes ago." This was said despite the fact that he hadn't given me a time to get back.

"I'm sorry your grace" I replied submissively, "I will endeavour not to let it happen again."

"Never mind that" he said, turning me to face him, "Lord Connington has informed me of a step we need to perform to ensure popular support for us when we return to retake the Seven Kingdoms."

"What do we need to do brother?" I asked.

"We must marry, as Targaryens have done for centuries and as our parents did."

 

**Extras 13**

**Extract from 'Great Mysteries of the World' by Mawyn, founder of the Scientist Order**

**The Island of Koridoran**

The Island of Koridoran (also known as Koridodah, Koridai, and The Black Island) is one of the most mysterious locations in the history of the world.

Unlike every other island or continent on the planet for which we have evidence stretching back centuries (even including places such as the Summer Islands or distant Ulthos), the Island of Koridoran seemed to appear in its current location roughly 4,000 years ago. Some of my former colleagues have suggested that the island previously existed elsewhere and was moved with the great earth magic the Koridans have command of (as seen with the movement of Pyke from the Iron Islands to the North of the archipelago).

The Koridans themselves have rejected this view however, as they state that the island moving magic has only existed for the past 3,000 years and had never been used of Koridoran itself. It is possible they are lying, though they have no reason to do so.

Another hypothesis is that the island itself was created due to the emergence of the Fountain of Youth present of Koridoran's highest peak (the fountain itself will be covered later in this chapter) which is also hypothesised to be linked to the 'Deepcore' located beneath the mountain.

This theory is somewhat more likely or at the very least difficult to dispute due to the fountain being present on the island when the first travellers arrived.

The geography of the island also bears mentioning, with the outer edges of the island forming a ring of mountains that make landings extremely difficult. The only break in these mountains is a large harbour which now hosts the town of Koresport.

The centre of the island also hosts a tall mountain known as the Korespeak (which despite rumours is not the tallest mountain in the world), at the top of which rests the fountain.

Admittance onto the mountain itself is prohibited and I myself was only able to ascend the slopes under armed guard.


	14. Harren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Darkness my old friend...

**A High Fantasy Westeros Part 14**

Harren, son of Donnel

The Ruined City of Lorath, The Silent Coast - 21st Minumfest 299AC

 

_We must always please the master._

This man remembered the last one of his fellows who had defied the master. This man remembered the silenced man's gagging as his skin was stripped from his bones for later use and how his blood poured onto the hard wooden deck. This man remembered the clean up afterwards and how long it had taken to remove the bloodstains from the ship.

_He payed the price for his defiance._

This man and his fellows were currently moored up next to the abandoned city of Lorath. The city had been abandoned shortly after its completion due to the appearance of the great entity, Silence. This man had been enstructed to remain on the ship as only this man's master would be able to enter the city alive.

_We must always obey the master._

This man remembered when the master had come to collect him. The sky above this man's village had burnt and rained down hellfire upon the master's enemies. This man's parents had been caught and burnt by the hellfire, while this man had survived by hiding in the basement of his parent's house. It had been three days before this man's hiding place was found. This man was swiftly brought before the master, though of course he didn't recognise him as the master at this time.

_This man had a name back then. But this man can no longer remember it._

The master had seen amusement in keeping this man alive and had ordered him taken aboard his ship, the Silence. The master - in his infinite kindness - had dedicated some of his precious time to convert this man to his way of thinking. Thankfully, this man had not taken long to be convinced of the master's wisdom and had quickly joined the master's loyal crew.

_There is no greater blessing in the world._

While this man could no longer speak or act of his own accord due to the master's methods, the blessing of no longer needing to worry about making his own decisions made the price well worth paying. The master's eternal wisdom ensured that this man's actions were now done for the good of all. While others may not see this truth, the crew of the Silence did.

_Euron! Euron King!_

_\----------------_

The abandoned city of Lorath was shrouded in the gloom of dusk when this man's master returned. To prevent the silence from knowing his true identity, the master had used the skin of a freshly caught Braavosi fisherman to disguise himself. As he climbed on board, this man could see that the skin was already rotting from merely being in the entity's presence. But of course, underneath the skin this man's master was unharmed.

"Make sail for Harlaw" commanded the Master, "I have seen the future and it starts there." As one the crew moved to their posts and prepared to set sail. This man wondered briefly why the future would start on Harlaw, as the master had been unjustfully exiled from the Seven Kingdoms but decided that it was not for this man to know. After a few words with the first mate of the crew, a large summer islander with no known name, the master retreated into his cabin.

"The master has ordered that before we arrive on Harlaw we are to make a stop on the coast of the Vale" announced the man, "The master has need of new skins for his plans to succeed."

 

**Extras 14**

**Extract from 'A History of the Lorath Coast' by Vhaemon Maegyr**

The first signs of the emergence of the silence came with the disappearance of the crew of the Bloodmast. The Bloodmast was an infamous pirate ship, captained by many a evil man during it's long reign over the coasts. So for it to suddenly drift into port with the entire crew having vanished - without taking the lifeboats and with no sign of battle - was immensely disturbing for all the inhabitants of the small city of Lorath.

The second signs was the sudden loss of thousands of animals - birds, beasts and fish alike all seemingly vanishing into thin air. A side effect of this loss was that the city suddenly began to starve, with only plants seemingly providing a sustainable food sauce. Unfortunately for the inhabitants of the city, they would not have long to starve.

The Falling of the Silence happened thousands of years before our time yet has had greater consequences than any period in history. Even the Doom of Valyria does not compare for at least with that disaster some traces of the civilisations survived and some peoples were spared. With the Fall nothing was spared. Even the gods vanished in the cataclysm, even the elements of the areas around Lorath. And no one, not even one survivor lived to tell of whatever happened to the peoples.

Now the coast of Lorath is utterly silent, as even the waves and wind seem to have abandoned the area. No people live there, no animals feed there and no sailor with an ounce of sense will journey into the area around the Lorath Coast. The area is considered so cursed that even the Black Goat, the demon of Qohor has completely refused to speak about whatever caused the silence. And so, to this day the curse of Lorath remains unsolved.


	15. Joanna II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Shard to tear the Kingdoms apart...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 15**

Joanna Snow

The City of Winterfell, Northos - 27th Minumfest, 299AC

  
"He is the prince who was promised and his is the song of ice and fire."

I was standing in a enclosed garden under a bright blue sky. In the distance I could see a great red city, so different from Winterfell stretching out over the hills opposite a dark blue lagoon. Underneath a pale brown canopy a white haired man was playing a harp, while a brown haired woman with a babe and a little girl watched on. Behind them, I could see a tall man in white armour holding a long silver blade.

"My Love" the brown haired woman was saying, "Will you not stay for the night? Rhaenys would love to be tucked in by her father for once." The man shook his head.

"I cannot stay much longer. Events are moving, the day is almost upon us." he said, "If I am to act, it must be now. To wait would be to threaten the very future of the kingdoms." The white knight stroad forwards to stand by the side of the man as he said this, holding his greatsword in one hand and a long, coiled rope in the other. The man reached out to stoke his daughter's cheek...and vanished. The little girl was alone now, trying in vain to create a building out of her wooden blocks. In the distance, the city burned with fires of red and green and above it - a black dragon flew.

I woke with a start. I wasn't in a garden or a burning red city. I was in my old room at Winterfell. The room was sparse, with the only furniture being the bed, a wardrobe and a small dressing table. On the wall hung an old tapestry of the treaty of Greywater Isle. My father had considered sending me there to be fostered, but had eventually decided upon Bear Island due to the issues of succession that had been raised since the murder of Jorah Mormont. Privately, I suspected that Queen Catelyn had pushed for the location of Bear Island as she wished for me to make friends who weren't directly related to me. My stepmother had always been kind to me, despite my bastardry. I suspected she was the only person aside from my father who actually knew the truth of my parentage, a truth my father still seemed reluctant to divulge.

_Not that we don't all have bigger issues to worry about at the moment._

My oldest brother, Brandon had gone missing two days ago. His vanishing had sent the whole of Winterfell into a panic. My father had ordered the entire city to be closed, with no one allowed to leave unless they had been completely searched. This had drawn no end of complaints from King Robert's party - especially Queen Cersei - about how they were being trapped in a foreign kingdom. I worried that if Brandon wasn't found soon the situation could go from quiet grumbling to actual fighting. The southerners had never been to fond of us northerners. Aside from the lockdown, my father was also leading guards to search every inch of the city and castle for my brother. A frantic hammering on the door distracted me from our thoughts and I opened it to reveal my sister Robyn.

"Robyn?" I asked, "What are you doing up so early? Is something wrong with Cregan?" Robyn shook her head and pushed her way past me.

"Close the door" she whispered. Frowning, I did as she asked. Robyn was pacing and rubbing her head. Her hair was frazzled as it sometimes did when she was stressed. "I didn't know who else to talk to Jo. I can barely understand it myself."

"What Rob?" I asked, "What's happened?" Robyn swallowed.

"I...You know I have some ability to see spirits right?" I nodded. I remembered how disturbed my sister had been after she executed the Bolton bastard. But what had that got to do with anything...No!

  
"Its Brandon, isn't it? Can you see him?" He couldn't be dead, not now! The Ironborn had been crushed, the Boltons torn to shreds, the last dragons banished across the sea. Who was left to oppose the Starks?

  
"I can hear him" Robyn said, looking at me with bloodshot eyes "He keeps...screaming, demanding I take revenge against someone. But I can't **make out their name!** "I could hear the edge of the Other-voice starting to break into her speech. She started to rub her temples so I grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look me in the face.

"Look at me Rob" I said, "Look at me. Can you...does Brandon know where his body is.." Robyn closed her eyes in thought.

"I see...a broken stairwell. I see...an old wooden door. I see...oh gods Jo! I can see blood, there's blood leaking from under the door!"

"Where is the door Rob?" I asked, "Concentrate. Where is it?" Robyn screwed up her eyes and grimaced with effort. I would have been gentler but we needed to find Brandon - even if he was dead. Suddenly her eyes flew open and for a second, I could have sworn they were glowing blue.

**"North Tower."**

\----------------

It had been difficult, sneaking through Winterfell at this hour without being seen. Even though I had remembered to grap a cloak before heading out, I was shivering in my pale nightgown. Robyn of course, wasn't shivering due to the otherblood but seemed distant and oddly trance-like after having to use her powers. This was the better of her two other-states, better this than her being angry. In that frame of mind my sweet, kind sister could be downright sadistic as the Bolton bastard had learnt to his horror.

  
"Sssh!" I whispered as I pulled Robyn behind a statue to avoid one of the Wolf Guard. While neither of us would truly get in any trouble for wandering around the castle, my father would be incredibly worried if he found out about Robyn being able to hear Brandon's voice in her head.

"Here we are" Robyn whispered as we came across the bottom of the northmost tower. The door to the tower was heavily locked but with a bit of effort Robyn was able to form a key out of ice so we could unlock it and proceed. I was admittedly slightly jealous that all of my siblings (except Rickard obviously due to his age) were able to use some ice magic while I had shown no talent at it. To be fair though, I had some ability in water magic - which I assumed was inherited from my Dornish mother.

The staircase of the tower was dirty and covered in cobwebs. Many of the floor tiles were cracked and the one window on the north side of the tower was shattered. Despite the dust however, I could tell that someone had been here recently - there was the occasional imprint of a boot in the dust, a string of broken cobwebs. I wished that we had remembered to bring our direwolves, as surely they would have able to sniff around for anything out of the ordinary.

"Look" said Robyn. At the top of the spiral staircase, barely visible in the light of our torches - a door stood ajar. And a red liquid was visible, having pooled from underneath. The stench hit me next, a hideous odour of decay. With indescribable terror we walked up the last few stairs and pushed open the door.

Lying on the ground was my brother Brandon. His face was stuck in a permanent look of horror from where it had been laid separately from the rest of his body.

 

**Extras 15**

**Extract from 'Histories of the Kings Volume 9: Baelor the Mad' by King's Historian Maegor**

  
It was then, with the reestablishment of the faith militant that Baelor indisputably went insane. Sending ravens to all in the seven kingdoms, he called for them to covert to the Faith of the Seven or be purged from Westeros. Of course, those who worshipped other gods were not keen to obey this order and very quickly many of the houses declared war on Baelor. Multiple alternatives to Baelor were suggested and many claimants of the Iron Throne emerged. A short list is included here:

Viserys 'the Kinslayer' Targaryen II: The uncle and former hand of Baelor, Viserys escaped King's Landing in the middle of the night with his wife and son - worried that Baelor would order harm to be done to him or his family due to their adherence to the Old Valyrian Pantheon. He was undoubtedly right, as not two moons later Baelor ordered the destruction of the Dragonpit and the massacre of all the priests (the aftershock of this would itself lead to the collapse of the leadership of the Valyrian priesthood and its loss of power in its traditional home of the Crownlands and the Stormlands). Viserys was quick to raise his banners as prince of Dragonstone and was declared King by the Vale, the Riverlands and the Narrow Sea.

Daena 'the Defiant' Targaryen: Daena Targaryen managed to escape King's Landing in the early days of the war. Unable to book passage to Dragonstone and to her uncle, she made her way into the Stormlands in the hope that her future would lie there. It did, but not in the way she hoped. Daena was abducted by the Lord Baratheon who proceeded to forcefully marry and rape her. Her husband claimed the throne through her while Daena herself was locked in a tower.

Damon 'the Grey Lion' Lannister: The first of the independence movements in the War of the Faiths, Damon declared himself King of the Rock and the Westerlands. Uninterested in the state of the other kingdoms, he proceeded to spend most of the war shoring up the Westerlands' defences and insuring his kingdom was able to stay neutral.

Harren 'Chuckles' Greyjoy: 'Chuckles' Greyjoy quickly declared himself King of the Iron Isles upon the arrival of Baelor's letter and proceeded to attack anyone and everyone. As always, this proves why an Ironborn should never be given any power. Ever.

The Sailor: A Targaryen bastard who claimed the throne as a son of Aegon III. Only supported by smallfolk.

Aegon Waters: Apparently a bastard of a Targaryen and a Stark. Gained the support of many unhappy lords in the Reach and the Stormlands. Failed to gain any support from Northos.

While Baelor did not automatically declare war on Northos, Eastern Dorne, Western Dorne or Koridoran; all four were eventually brought into the war due to either Baelor himself or one of the claiments.


	16. Tyrion II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We do not fear what lies beneath, we can never did too deep!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 16**

Tyrion Lannister

Casterly Rock, Westerlands - 3rd Rhoynetide 299AC

  
"Brothers of the mine, Rejoice! Swing, swing, swing your pick!"

Even from my bedchamber in the upper halls of Casterly Rock, I could hear the workers preparing to start the day's mining in the caverns below. As always, they were singing one of the common mining songs of the Westerlands. Some of the more common songs included Duram and his Bane, the Princess of Erebos, Diggy Diggy Hole and of course the old favourite, 'Aerys; he's only got one ball!' I chuckled, remembering the familiar tune.

_Even father laughed upon hearing that._

I'd love to say I was surprised with how my father had reacted upon my return to Castely Rock, but I would be lying. I had been affectively confined to my chambers, unable to visit other parts of the rock or even Lannisport. The only people I had seen were Twenty, my guards and occasionally father himself when he felt the need to criticise his son and heir.

_Why did I even bother to come back here? Did I think that things might be different?_

It had been always like this. While Jaime and Cersei were my father's delights - containing the best of him and mother - I was the twisted monster that had crawled out of her broken womb and killed her in the process. And he had never forgiven me for that, regardless of whether or not I was a baby, regardless of what else I achieved.

_Perhaps he should blame himself for getting her pregnant with me!_

The irony was that I was effectively the only child he had left. Jaime, the shining golden lion (and the only one of my close family who bore any affection for me) had joined the Kingsguard and as such was forced to give up any titles and desires of his own. Cersei, the 'Light of the West' had married Robert Baratheon and was essentially now a member of a different house. I hadn't seen either of them in years, and not a single one of my nieces and nephews.

_Though I'm not entirely alone._

A knock on the door announced the only other member of my close family who bore any affection for me, my daughter Joanna. Blonde of hair but with her mother's blue eyes, Joanna was a sweet girl without a cruel bone in her body. Perhaps her lack of cruelty was my father's reason for claiming that she is a bastard, regardless of the fact that I wed and bed her mother. Or perhaps it's just his continuing desire to deprive me of everything a man could value.

_Doubtless he would have killed Tysha himself if the Mountain hadn't done it first._

It happened in the third month of 287AC, at the little cottage I had secretly brought in the woods north of Casterly Rock.

_I should have chosen a further location. Father knows everything that goes on in his domain._

I had been out gathering firewood, Tysha being unable to do it herself due to her recent childbirth. I had been so far away that I mustn't have heard the screams. The first sign I had that something was wrong was the decapitated body of my horse - Lancel - outside the hut. And of course the door of the hut, which had been smashed of its hinges.

_I can see it now, even over ten years afterwards._

I had never seen any confirmation about Tysha's murderer, never seen any true evidence of who killed her so brutally but I knew it could be no one but Gregor Clegane. Getting revenge on him was the reason I had returned to Casterly Rock, and the reason I had made a special effort to befriend Ser Twenty. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy his company, in all honesty I found him hilariously witty but if anyone could kill the mountain, a Goodman could.

"Good morning father" said Joanna from the doorway, "I'm afraid Grandfather has asked for you to join him to break your fast in his solar." I seethed at my father for using her as a common servant even though I knew it was better than the other likely alternative he would have offered - throwing her out onto the streets of Lannisport.

_He would never commit kinslaying himself of course, but if Joanna starved to death he wouldn't care one bit. Still..._

"Well I better not keep him waiting then" I replied, trying to smile for my daughter. I put down the book I had taken to bed last night (Legends of Andalos by Historian Casper), grabbed a cloak and gestured for Joanna to lead on. The halls of Casterly were quiet at this early hour, aside from the distant sound of the mining songs in the deep.

"Never seen the blue moon glow! Dwarves don't fly so high!"

"How did he seem this morning?" I asked as we passed by a large statue of the Stone God. The statue was a dwarf in polished bronze plate, wielding a mighty diamond pickaxe.

"Better than usual, father" Joanna replied, "He seems oddly pleased by something so try to be careful." Father was rarely pleased so this was probably very good advice. As we passed by a window, I could see the shining sunset sea stretching out to the western horizon. I'd often wondered if the tales of a continent beyond the ocean were true. The maester, historian and scientist orders referred to the legendary fifth continent as Farthos and I had heard the occasional mad priest (mostly from the madmen of the Lonely Light) preach about how it was the land of eternal sunshine and rainbows. Personally, I thought that Farthos was a terrible name for a continent.

"We're here father" Joanna announced as we reached the door to my father's chambers. The door was ornately decorated with a carving of a dwarf and a man combatant, with a lion's head carved above of course.

"Well then, take this" I said, giving my daughter a few silver stags "and see if you can get yourself some food from the kitchens." Her smile was all the thanks I needed as she ran down the corridor. I took a deep breath and opened the door to my father's chambers.

"You are late Tyrion" Tywin Lannister announced, from where he was sitting around the small dining table in his private rooms. The table was layered with extravagant food in gold saucers and expensive spirits in golden goblets because only the best was acceptable for Lannisters. At least the alcohol was good, I thought as I sat at the opposite end to my father and poured myself some ale from the brewers at Deepholm. For the first few minutes of eating my father and I did not speak to one another, with my father preferring to regard me with a glare as he quenched his first.

"You are going to travel to Erebos and ensure a trade agreement goes through in the correct way to benefit our house" my father finally said.

"Oh will I, father?" I replied. He couldn't even be bothered to ask, instead just ordering me to do it as if I was a servant or guard instead of his son.

"You will" he stated firmly, "And you will remember that you are representing this house so no whoring or drinking while you are there."

_At the very least I would finally be able to go outside again._

 

**Extras 16**

**Extract from 'Histories of the Kings Volume 9: Baelor the Mad' by King's Historian Maegor**

The first battles of the war took place along the borders of the Stormlands, when the pretender Argillac Baratheon - who had married Daena Targaryen - led his forces into the southern crownlands. They scoured a multitude of victories in a short time and perhaps could have won the war very easily if not for the other claimants. Their easy victory can be attributed to many things, the smallfolk's dislike for the faith militant, the surprise of their sudden attack and the general unpreparedness of their opponents. However, their victory came at a cost due to the massive casualties on both sides as well as the growing resentment towards the pillaging and raping being done by Argillac's forces.

Meanwhile in the Riverlands, one of the greatest hosts in Westeros history was forming. Comprised of the Rhoynor forces in the Riverlands (including water-witches, southern mammoth riders and the Greenblood priests), the Sea Queen's followers in the Vale (including wyvern riders, gargoyles and the Vale Dwarves) and the surviving Valyrian priesthood - as well as the followers of the Seven disinclined to fight their fellow men just for worshipping something different - this massive army formed up under Viserys II Targaryen's leadership and prepared to march south to besiege King's Landing. However, Baelor had foreseen this and sent the majority of his faith militant (a not insignificant force) to crush this army and kill his uncle before all his forces were truly assembled.

On the other side of the continent, the Reach had dissolved into chaos between the faith militant (based in Oldtown and Bitterbridge), the Sailor's forces (based in Red Lake), Aegon Waters' Forces (based in Horn Hill) and the Tyrells of Highgarden who were attempting to stay neutral (but would later join Viserys II). The forces of Aegon Waters and the Faith Militant brought the south-eastern part of the Reach to ruin and only through excessive force were the Tyrells able to prevent Highgarden itself from being brought into the war. Meanwhile, the Sailor who had benefitted from the distraction of the other factions was expanding his territory in both the Reach and the Westerlands, despite the wishes of Damon Lannister to keep his people out of the war. However, none of them could predict the ruin that would shortly crush all of their hopes.

In Western Dorne, the Yronwoods had fortified the Boneway, to prevent the war spilling across into Dorne. Despite their best attempts however, the north-east of Dorne was slowly, but steadily being brought into the conflict. House Yronwood knew that they would have to become personally involved in fixing the chaos in the Reach and offered alliance (somewhat ironically) to House Tyrell and called upon their old allies in Eastern Dorne - the Martells.

The Starks of Northos had declared official neutrality in the War of the Faiths, while secretly supplying Viserys Targaryen as much as possible. Many second and third sons also journeyed to join the army of Viserys. The Starks also gifted Viserys secretly with a crown made of the finest iron from the mines at Last Hearth.

Finally the armies of Viserys and Baelor clashed around the Hill of the High Heart - ironically the location of the great Andal massacre by the Old Gods. It was an excellent victory for the forces of Viserys, as despite heavy casualties the seven-blessed armour of the faith militant was unable to stand up to the massive range of troops available to Viserys. Filled with pride, the army marched towards King's Landing for what they believed would be the decisive battle of the war. But they were wrong.

At the same time this was happening, Argillac Baratheon was facing the first true bit of trouble in his great campaign. Aegon Waters, while unsuccessful in gaining any support from Northos had gained the allegiance of many a Storm Lord, unhappy about Argillac's harsh rule. His forces had now split into three, attacking the Tyrell forces, marching on Storm's End and marching on King's Landing respectively. His success has long been held as an example of how one unremarkable man can rise high due to the failures of others. Argillac, unhappily was forced to send soldiers home to defend his lands and his victory - which seemed certain at the beginning of the war - was now uncertain.

Four armies. Baelor and the faith militant. Viserys and the Vale and Riverlands. Argillac and the Stormlands (well most of them). Aegon and the unhappy lords. The battle of Old King's Landing was beginning. But all of them had no idea of what was truly coming.

Until now, Harren 'Chuckles' Greyjoy had stayed mostly out of the war, aside from some minor reaving of the Westerlands, the Riverlands and the Reach. But not any longer. For Harren, in his mad devotion to the Drowned God had managed to awaken two of the darkest creatures ever to exist on the world. The Sea Dragons were coming.


	17. Olenna I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flowers and Thorns

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 17**

Olenna Tyrell

Highgarden, Capital of the Reach - 2nd Rhoynetide 299AC

_You would have thought having his sister be a princess would make him satisfied but no._

"Can you honestly not see any problems with your plan, Mace?" I demanded. The oaf and I were sitting around a table, deep within the private guardens of the castle of Highgarden. We were surrounded by hundreds upon thousands of exquisitely arranged flowers and greenery. If there was such a thing a trying to hard to impress, my family had achieved it - though I suppose it's appropriate for the house sigil. Personally I preferred to sit in the herb gardens, where healing herbs, cooking spices and ingredients for potion making were all prepared giving the air a rich flavour. My grandaughter Margaery and my grandsons Willas, Garlen and Loras would often join me there for the midday meal.

"I have no idea what you're talking about mother!" Mace spluttered, his face bearing an increasing resemblance to an overripe tomato. "If Renly marries Maegaery then a Tyrell will be the true heir to the Iron Throne!" I sighed.

"You're forgetting about Stannis and your sister, Mace" I replied, "Not to mention Cersei's own children."

"But no one wants a Lannister on the throne, Mother" Mace argued, "And regardless, Jana will surely convince her husband to support us in putting Maegaery on the throne. Even without that, Stannis is the lord of a barren rock, with no support. He could not oppose us with such little power and I'm sure he'll see that and support Renly." I felt very tempted to take Mace across my lap as I had down with him as a child.

"Mace, you've met Stannis. Does he seem like the kind of person who would allow a younger brother to supplant him?"

"Well no, but..."

"And about your sister" I continued, "Jana is just as ambitious as you are, though she admittedly is more capable of disguising it. She would doubtless prefer her husband to sit on the throne, rather than allow her little brother to sink his teeth into the cursed thing." During our discussion, Mace's face had somehow gone from red to an intresting dark purple colour.

_Perhaps I should have him looked at by a Maester..._

"Regardless of Jana, Mother" Mace said, "Stannis would never go against the rightful heir to the Iron Throne which means we cannot support him as king if we want a Tyrell to be a queen. We can't marry Margaery to Joffrey Baratheon either as Robert would refuse the betrothal. Renly is our only option!" I raised an eyebrow.

"Come now Mace" I replied, "Surely you don't think that Robert Baratheon will live much longer with his whoring and his drinking. Healing charms and potions can only do so much after all, and Dorne will never let him access their healing springs after the treatment of Elia."

"So you suggest we wait?" Mace asked. I nodded, smiling as I had when he was a small boy playing with toy soldiers.

"Yes. When the time is right we can push Margaery as a bride if it seems the best option." I rose from the seat, and gestured for one of the maids to bring me my bloodoak walking stick. "We shall discuss this more after dinner." With those final words I walked away from the table, into the true castle of Highgarden and away from all the flowers. Usually I would have waited until Mace had been entirely convinced of my plan, but Margaery had asked for a quiet word earlier today and I would not be late - despite my age.

My chambers were at the northern side of Highgarden, facing towards the Mander. Because of my age, I had demanded quarters on a lower floor as I could hardly show myself up with a long awkward climb.

_I also can't allow myself to get a bad back, because who knows what Mace would get up to in the meantime._

Margaery was waiting for me in my solar. As usual she was dressed in a fine gown and had a bright smile on her pretty face - though not as pretty as mine had been, hah! - but I could tell something had her worried. There was a crease between her eyebrows and the way she waited for my maids to leave the room confirmed my suspicion that something was very wrong.

"What is it that you wished to speak to me about child?" I asked.

"Grandmother, do you remember when the letter I sent you when I suddenly had to return from King's Landing?" Margaery asked.

"Yes" I replied, "It spoke of a great secret - in code of course."

"That was it. Grandmother, the secret I have found out - that could bring the realm to ruin - King Robert's younger children are not his."

_Well that's certainly interesting..._

 

**Extras 17**

**Extract from 'Histories of the Kings Volume 9: Baelor the Mad' by King's Historian Maegor**

The first attack of the Sea Dragons came at the ancient port of Oldtown, home of the Citadel, the Starry Sept and the Hightower. With a primeval roar, the Dragons rose up from the harbour and proceeded to wreck havoc in the areas of the city that bordered the ocean. Among the casualties in the assault was the Hightower, which was knocked over by the rampaging beasts. Only the ancient lower section of the tower was able to escape the collapse - which also killed the entire main line of House Hightower apart from one daughter who was in the sept at the time.

Despite the best attempts of the Oldtown City Eatch, the Sea Dragons could not be stopped and the Ironborn that followed the initial attack were able to gain control of the city instantly. As can be expected from Ironborn, they sacked the city and left it in ruins behind them. The effects of the battle, short and long term are still being felt today as the damage done to Oldtown caused the beginning of the splintering of the Maester Order and the loss of one of the great powerhouses in the Reach. The fall of Oldtown also lost the Faith Militant one of their greatest supporting locations.

Harren Greyjoy was not satisfied with the chaos he had brought however. He swiftly split his forces into two groups each of which with one sea dragon, one of which he personally led to King's Landing and the Iron Throne. The other however, was led by his brother Rodrick 'Bloodbourne' Greyjoy and chose a far more outrageous location to attack: The Island of Koridoran.

Until the Battle of Koridoran, the people of Koresport had stayed out of the war - content to stick to their preferred belief of not attacking unless they were attacked first - as evidenced by their house words of 'We Remember'. Of course, this did not mean that they weren't prepared for the Ironborn assault.

The Sea Dragon swept into the harbour of the island in the dead of night, apparently wishing to catch the Koresport guards by surprise. It failed. With the roar of a vengeful God, the Koridans activated one of the most ancient weapons to exist on the face of this planet - the Oceanflame. In an imstant the entire harbour area of the southern ocean was aflame and the sea dragon - that had risen out of the ocean to attack - was caught in the flame and utterly crippled. While not completely dead, the dragon was not able to exert its fall strength against the defences of Koresport giving the defenders the time to finish the job. It also blocked the only harbour of the island, preventing the Ironborn Sailors from attacking at all. It did not however prevent them from being attacked.

Out of seemingly nowhere, the Koridoran fleet made a sudden appearance and attacked the Ironborn in their unprotected rear. The Koridans had been able to achieve this as they had secretly sent their fleet away to another island the day before. The Ironborn, despite putting up formidable resistance were unable to resist the furious charge of the Koridoran fleet and were splintered apart and crushed. The few survivors were later tracked down by Koridoran spies and dealt with. Rodrick Greyjoy himself however, was captured and taken directly to the dungeons of the Deepcore where as rumour has it, he was kept alive.

Half of the Ironborn war effort was utterly crushed in this battle, though Harren himself wouldn't hear of it for a week. More importantly however, was the beginning of Koridoran involvement in the war as Gastrom Koridan, High Lord of Koridoran declared war on the Ironborn nation. The Sea Dragon itself was eventually brought down by a bolt through the eye. It was later credited by Gastrom as a magnificent beast and on his orders its skull was moved to a hillside where it could overlook the ocean as a mark of respect.

Meanwhile in the Southern Reach a no less important battle was taking place. After the fall of Oldtown, the faith militant had lost the majority of their power, with the only remaining stronghold being the town of Bitterbridge. The forces of Aegon Waters had taken advantage of this and had therefore spread out their forces to conquer more of the Reach. This was a terrible mistake. From the south, the armies of Dorne launched an attack at the heart of the Waters Conquests - Horn Hill, former seat of House Tarly. And from the North House Tyrell did the same.

The fortress of Horn Hill - despite being one of the greatest fortresses in the South was literally pulverised between the two armies - spelling an end for Aegon Waters' conquests in the Reach and indeed for the war there completely, as the Sailor's forces were easily crushed when Damon Lannister finally got fed up. But did any of this mean anything in the long run? Did any of this truly matter? For the true battle of the war had not yet begun.

Old King's Landing. Greatest City and Capital of the Seven Kingdoms. The Red Keep. The Dragonpit. The Sept of Remembrance. And now the site of the Battle of the Five Armies.

The first armies to meet in combat were the forces of Argillac and Baelor. The Stormlords, despite their troubles in the later stages of the war were able to easily breach the walls of the city due to the lack of training given to the faith militant. Argillac's armies poured into the city and marched on the Red Keep. However, as the army had just reached the old guild of alchemists horns sounded from the hills to the south-west. Aegon had arrived. With a cheer of fury the bastard led his forced towards the van of the Stormlands. It was a fatal error.

Despite his questionable actions, Argillac was a proven battlefield commander and had remembered to protect the back of his army with a stockade of wooden spikes - many with extremely nasty curses. Perhaps even more importantly, he knew Aegon was coming. Aegon's cavalry charge ran straight into the wooden defences and sustained massive casualties. In truth, the fact that his army was not utterly crushed by these casualties can only be explained away by its huge size. Regardless, the core of Aegon's army was destroyed and while the Stormlanders eventually had to retreat inside the city walls, they did so in good order and caused far much more damage to the opposing army than was dealt back to them.

Three of the armies were now in the city and the reader may just about now be wondering where Viserys II was. After all, he was far closer to the city than Aegon was and surely could have taken it easily. The truth is that Viserys had allowed his army to progress slowly, with the intent to allow the other claimants to damage each other before he swept in and crushed whoever was left. Beginning now.

In two parts,the army of Viserys swept towards the city. Half of it attacked from the north and with the aid of the Gargoyles and Wyvern Riders easily crushed the meagre defences of the faith militant. The other part of the army attacked from the south and with the aid of the water witches and the Valyrian priests smashed apart what was left of the blockade. Aegon Waters, was trapped outside the city at this time and seeing that his cause was apparently lost, fled away into the Stormlands. Baelor and Argillac were now trapped inside a city besieged on both sides. Viserys' forces swept through the city and despite fierce resistance began to utterly destroy both of the other pretenders. It looked as if the day was won.

But no. From the depths of Blackwater Bay came the Sea Dragon and the Ironborn. Due to the tiny amount of survivors it is difficult to truly establish what happened in the later stages of the battle. All that is certain is that Viserys Targaryen was the only surviving claimant and Old King's Landing was destroyed.


	18. Eddard II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> History Repeats...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 18**

Eddard Stark

The City of Winterfell, Capital of Northos -6th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
_Is there any greater pain than to lose a child?_

Brandon, my eldest son. I had named him in honour of my dead brother with the hope that he would be able to have the happy life my brother had been denied. I hoped that he would be able to to become a fine northern warrior and in time, a fine northern Lord. Perhaps I would even live long enough to see him marry and have children of his own who I could spoil, content that history had not repeated.

My daughter Robyn and Joanna had found his body in one of the old towers. Gods! To see the boy who days before had been so eagerly training with swords lying there, with his head separated from his body. Had he felt terror in his final moments? Had he died screaming? For help? For his mother or I?

_Parents should die first, not their children._

Winterfell had shook with the new of Brandon's murder. The Green men held nightly vigils in the many godswoods, attended by small folk and lords alike. Even southerners who worshipped different gods and who had journeyed north with Robert attended the rituals, shocked that such a peaceful meeting between friendly houses could have gone so wrong, so suddenly.

_And my family..._

My lady wife Catelyn had withdrawn into her rooms, despairing at the sight of her son's corpse. My eldest daughter Robyn had done similar, except with an almost paranoid protectiveness of her son and younger siblings as well. Joanna - who may not be their trueborn sibling but loved them regardless - would often vanish for hours, only appearing at meals. Sansa and Arya had almost switched behaviours, with Arya throwing herself into sewing and ladylike activities to keep her mind off Brandon and Sansa constantly arguing and threatening everyone in a paranoid fury akin to her eldest sister. She had even slapped Robert's eldest son when he had made a comment she deemed offensive. And Rickard. Rickard had taken to following one of his older siblings round, sobbing and asking where Brandon was.

_He may not understand what has happened but even he can tell that something terrible has occurred._

And the worst thing of all was that I couldn't do anything about it. Obviously I had tried to look for the culprit and I had the tower and Brandon's rooms searched for evidence. Aside from broken cobwebs however, the rooms were empty and no evidence of the murderer could be found. If what I suspected was true, that the Lannisters - the only house known for killing children - were responsible then I would need evidence before I could act.

_If I had known this would be the response of inviting Robert north I would never have considered it._

I would not stop looking for my son's murderer. No matter who the killer was, I would see them brought to justice and my son avenged. If it was the Lannisters, I would ensure the queen and her oathbreaking brother suffered before the end. But... I could not focus all my time on it no matter what I inwardly desired.

My father had a saying: "The Kingdom always comes first." And the kingdom required that I complete my part in the visit of kings. Myself, Sansa and Arya - who would have to take Brandon's role now - would travel south to King's Landing to finish this instance of the Pact of Ice and Fire. The pact required that I brought some members of my family south and with Brandon dead, Catelyn mourning and Rickon far too young it would have to be them. Robert had also pressed me for a betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa but I had asked for time to think about it. Now, however after a close look I could see that the prince was cruel and spiteful, enough that even Sansa had started to notice it. Thankfully, Robert had stopped pushing after Brandon's murder, aware of how close we were to a conflict between our two parties.

"The truth lies in the south Eddard Stark. Many truths, both good and bad. But with them, danger. Be wary." Unbidden, a memory of my last conversation with the Wolf Lord came to me. I gone to the godswood, hoping to discover who was Brandon's killer.

"You know I cannot interfere in affairs between mortals. No, I cannot tell you the killer's name but I can tell you this - Guest Right has been broken, the most sacred rule of all cast aside. The Old Gods will not forgive and the murderers of your son will suffer."

Robyn would have to rule in my place during my absence, though once Catelyn had finished mourning (at least openly) I expected that she would assist. I had also sent a letter asking for my brother Benjen to journey south to assist her while I was away.

_And Brandon..._

"The North is where we lie" I reminded myself. A crypt had already been prepared for him, next to my sister Lyanna and her stillborn son. The only acceptable resting place for a Stark of Winterfell. They say lying with our fathers is the greatest honour, even when you are taken so young and your father isn't laid to rest yet.

I would miss Winterfell and Northos. I hadn't left the continent in fifteen years, aside from the business with the Ironborn. Even if it was only for a short time, it felt...wrong to leave my homeland.

"Your Grace, the horses are packed and your daughters are saying their final goodbyes" said Jory Cassel, who would be accompanying my party south.

"Good" I replied, "We must be going then."

 

**Extras 18**

**Extract from 'Great Mysteries of the World' by Marwyn, founder of the Scientist Order**

**The 'Ice'**

The 'Ice' is one of the oldest weapons in existence, only beaten in age by the Fist of Winter, the two Lightbringers and the Baratheon warhammer Darkfall.

It was taken into the possession of House Stark following the end of the First Long Night. According to the rumours, it was originally the blade of the Night's Queen, gifted to her and forged by the Voice-of-Winter herself.

The sword has only very rarely seen use and has never been allowed to leave the possession of the Starks themselves. When not in use by a King or Queen of Winter the sword is held deep within the crypts beneath Winterfell, tied down by heavily enchanted skysteel chains. I was not allowed to see the sword myself, though Rickard Stark, the current King of Northos informs me that this is the situation for everybody - including visiting kings.

According to legend, the sword is utterly unbreakable - even by skysteel or Valyrian Steel. It is also said to boost the powers of a Stark, particularly an Otherblood.

When not using the 'Ice' the Starks use a simple skysteel greatsword called the Builder's sword; apparently passed down from Brandon the Builder.


	19. Rodrick II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now starring the Lihzards from TERRARIA!!!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 19**

Rodrick Harlaw

Ten Towers, New capital of the Iron Islands - 5th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
The words in the ledger were starting to blur together. After a while, even me - Rodrick 'the Reader' - could get tired of the books and scrolls that were required reading for the Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands. It was especially bad when the words always said the same things: less taxes able to be payed, more failures in all the industries, greater violence between Ironborn and Merlings - or Ironborn and Ironborn nowadays.

_It could always be worse I suppose._

I wasn't in the best of moods tonight due to the news that had freshly come from the mainland. The worst of the news, at least at first glance was that the eldest son of Eddard Stark - Brynden or something - had been murdered during the visit of Robert Baratheon. Whoever murdered the kid couldn't have picked a worse time as I could already tell that the suspicions of the Starks would fall squarely on the Baratheons and their greatest ally, the Lannisters. I feared it would end in war, a result that would be good for no one; even the people who tried to stay neutral. I wondered if even Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon's great friendship, gained through a young Eddard's visits to Storm's End and the Eyrie would be able to resist the drums of war.

_Even the greatest men can be turned into monsters by battle._

The news that had me most worried however was the report of a raid on the coast of the Vale. Apparently a group of Ironborn had raided and razed a small coastal town. Brynden 'Blackscales' Justman, on behalf on Robert Arryn had written to me to demand that the perpetrators were brought to justice. As usual, the letter contained a threat of a 'Severe Reprisal' if I failed to comply. The Greenlanders probably suspected that I myself had ordered the raid as doubtless to them, any Ironborn were evil, no matter whatever prior actions they had taken.

_Believe me, if I could go back and stop Balon's pitiful attempt at a rebellion, I would._

Aside from the threat of action once again being raised from the mainland which was nothing new, I had the identity of the Ironborn attackers to worry about. Despite the dislike the majority of the Iron Island population had for me - with the exception of the more sane ones and the smallfolk directly under me - I could not see any of them performing a raid such as this without the support of a stronger player. Even with the support of a strong player however, the Vale was an odd choice due to its distance from the islands as well as its formidable coastal defences. And to attack a small village, bereft of anything valuable?

_Euron. It has to be._

I closed the ledger with a sigh. Tomorrow, I would have to write a formal apology to the Arryns and their Justman protector, as well as setting loose a few spies among my own people to look for warriors who weren't even here. Doubtless, the news that I was setting spies loose would reach the public's ears and I would get another wave of drunken men denouncing me as "no true Ironborn".

_Well, at least they aren't fighting each other yet._

I moved to blow out the candle on my desk before a sudden gust of wind blew through my solar. The window, on the wall to my right had been opened - which was odd because I distinctly remembered closing it before I began this session of checking the ledgers. I picked up the candle with one hand while another reached under my desk for the emergency vial of booksalt. Booksalt was a rare substance, made in the guild of the alchemists in King's Landing. While usually harmless to humans, it could have devastating effects if thrown in directly into the eyes. If worst came to the worst, I also had a small steel dagger on my belt. As I crept closer to the window, subtly positioning my back to the wall I could see that the window frame had tiny claw marks on it - scratches, as if from some large bird.

"Show yourself!" I demanded, "If you wish to face me, step into the light!" As if in response to my statement, I could hear a quiet hissing coming from my left. I turned the candle in that direction and was knocked to the ground and a dark green mass smashed me off my feet.

A loud, lisping voice screamed "Azon Tyu!" I rolled away from the creature and taking only a moment to judge where it's face should be, threw the booksalt into its eyes. The creature screamed and blindly swiped at me with an odd golden sword while I frantically crawled backwards across the floor. The door crashed open and with a shout Donnel threw himself at the creature, armed with his steel axe. To credit the creature, it gave its best but due to to its wounds and the amount of pain it was in, it thankfully fell quickly.

"Are you alright milord?" Donnel asked, moving over to help me get up off the floor "Did the creature manage to hurt you?"

"I'm fine thanks to you Donnel" I replied, "But more importantly, what is this thing and why was it here?"

By the light of the torch Donnel had brought into the room I could see the creature more easily. It was slightly shorter than a man and covered in green scales, aside from a red frill down its neck. It's large mouth was filled with sharp canines and each of its digits (four on each hand and foot) ended in a long sharp claw.

"A Lizardman." Donnel breathed.

"Why would one of them be here of all places?" I wondered, "They're only meant to live in the darkest parts of Sothoryos and the Grey Waste." And why, even more importantly had it decided to attempt to take my life?

 

**Extras 19**

**Extract from 'Seven Wonders' by Lomas Longstrider**

**The Cities of the Lizardmen**

Far to the south, other rivers and jungles unseen by any men lies the kingdom of the Lizardmen. This kingdom, unlike all others in the world uses gold as their primary building material, rather than wood, clay or stone. These citadels can stretch for miles and contain wonders the like of which have never been seen by man. Halls filled with carvings of events from the dawn of history. Great armouries, containing weapons the like of which have never been seen. And at the heart of every city, a great temple for honouring the gods and their ancestors.

It is most unfortunate then that the kingdom of the Lizardmen is forbidden to man. Any trespassers found in the kingdom are ritually sacrificed to the ruling Lizardman god, Azon Tyu. Those stealing from the temples suffer even more greatly; with punishments that would make the Black Goat scream in horror. Above each door into the cities is inscribed "Aset Nead Fartk" which translates to "None shall Pass."

It's seems therefore, that for now the kingdom of the Lizardmen will have to remain a mystery.


	20. Cersei II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yahh've been marked me lad!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 20**

Cersei Lannister

The Coast of the Vale, Westeros - 12th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
"The Old Gods do not forgive" said a voice.

I was standing in what looked like one of the northern savage's godswoods. Directly in front of me, stood a wierwood, blood pouring from its mouth. "I have nothing to be forgiven for" I replied, "And if you attempt to hurt me, the Stone God will intervene." A low growl echoed from the woods surrounding me.

"On the contrary child, the Stone God will not. I expect he'll actually approve of whatever actions I see fit to take." How dare this being, whatever he was call me child.

"You have no power over me." I spat. With a sudden gust of cold air I was blasted off my feet. My arms were grabbed and lifted in the air by branches from the trees around me, which quickly released more branches to grab my waist and legs as well.

"I have every power" said the voice. Out of the woods strode a half-man, half-wolf creature - brown of fur with dark grey eyes. It's teeth were bared in a snarl. "Do you think for a moment that any of your kin could prevent me from acting?" The beastman stalked towards me. In the twilight of the wood, I could see that a large green axe was strapped to its back.

"I've done nothing wrong" I replied, forcing my voice not to waver.

"Many of my kin would disagree with you" the beast said, "You freely murder, you sleep with you brother and pass off his children as another's and...you have broken Guest Right."

"I have not!" I shouted, "The boy shouldn't have been spying on us - he should have known better! We had to kill him...Jaime had to kill him, I had nothing to do with it!" The creature seemed to smile then, revealing even more of its sharp, pointed teeth.

"How quick you Lannisters are to turn on one another. You haven't changed at all since my days" the Wolfman chuckled, "But regardless." It's eyes darkened. "You egged him on. You are just as responsible and you will suffer just as much as he will."

"My father..." I began. The Lannisters were rich and had many powerful artefacts. Surely paying the creature off would work.

"I don't care about your father. I care about you and how much you will have to suffer to undo the damage caused by your actions." As he said this a branch of one of the trees started winding itself around my neck tightly while another...another moved slowly up my right leg.

"Wait..."

"Of course though, the ancient rules still apply, even here." The branches released me and I tumbled to the snowy ground below. "I cannot hurt you myself, unless you prove a sufficient problem for me to do so. No, what I'll do..." He grabbed my right arm. "Is give you this."

I screamed as all the skin of my hand seemed to burn and writhe before my eyes. Where there had been clean, unblemished skin before, now was a dark black mark, faintly in the shape of an axe.

"This mark will reveal the actions you have taken to all. No sorcery will get rid of it, cut off an arm and it will only appear elsewhere. And while you have the mark you are cursed to suffer the worst torments possible." The creature laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed in the woods.

"The Old Gods do not forgive child. And we do not forget."

\----------------

That had been three days ago. We had just left the accursed northern continent and I had gone to my rooms on the Royal ship, content that we would soon be back in more civilised lands and that no one had discovered Jaime's killing of the Stark boy. Well, I believed that Eddard Stark and the oldest of the daughters he brought with him - Sansa - suspected myself or my brother as the culprits, but I knew for certain that the Starks would not move unless they had proof.

_Doubtless they wouldn't be brave enough to move against a Lannister anyway, and even if they did their forces would be crushed easily._

Regardless, I would feel better once the savages had returned to their own lands and the pact of Ice and Fire had been completed. Robert might be content to treat the Starks as equals but I refused to. How could I when their very presence challenged my power, restricting where I could go on the ship and who I could command? They had even brought their direwolves and would often allow them on deck! When Joffrey was king I would ensure that he wouldn't have to worry about such a ridiculous tradition, never needing to associate with his lessees except when they were kneeling before him to beg for mercy.

_My plan for Cassana may have failed but the Lannisters will still rule Northos._

The youngest daughter, Arya would have to marry Tommen once her father was disposed of. Thankfully, she was still young enough to be trained out of any bad habits she might have picked up from the rest of her family and her Direwolf could be easily killed. At the very least, her withdrawal from public after the death of her brother showed her to be a meek, mild little thing. Better than her sisters at least.

_Robert should have had them whipped!_

The second oldest of the girls, Sansa had dared to slap my precious Joffrey for merely making a joke. Then the oldest had backed up her sister and threatened him right in front of his guards. Even Robert, ignoring the insult to his house and family had laughed off the incident, claiming that Joffrey probably deserved it. The only ones who seemed in the remotest troubled by the girl's behaviour were her father (who was still far too lenient) and the bastard, who barely deserved any attention.

_Oh, I will have revenge._

I had forced myself, wisely to restrain my actions for now. We were not yet back in King's Landing where I had absolute control. I usually stayed sealed in my rooms, only accompanied by Jaime and my children (minus Cassana, who had decided to 'make friends' with the Stark girls). Thankfully this had prevented anyone except my brother from discovering the dark mark on the palm of my hand, though I had been forced to wear gloves whenever I went outside. To my horror however, Jaime had an identical mark on his hand.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, "Jaime, if anyone finds out about these marks everyone will know we killed the Stark boy!" Jaime as usual was unconcerned.

"Calm yourself, sweet sister" he replied, "Even with these marks, the Starks have no proof."

"Don't be stupid Jaime!" I shouted, "Where else could they have come from? The whole realm will rise up against us!"

"Most of the realm wouldn't care Cersei. If the Starks push for revenge they will only be seen as northern invaders."

\----------------

"You know, it's horribly rude of the Wolf Lord to do this."

I was standing of the deck of Robert's prize ship, the Stormdancer under a clear night sky. The ship was deserted and even the ocean was barely moving, appearing utterly flat from here to the horizon. Standing in front of me was a golden haired woman, leaning on a bronze sword.

"Who are you?" I asked. Who was this woman to talk so flippantly about a god and to a queen?

"Another god I imagine" the woman said, as if in reply to my thoughts. "You needn't worry about being swept up in a godly battle, I and Brandon got those out of the way years ago." Brandon?

"If you are a god, which one?" I demanded.

"Some call me the Lady of the Waves. Others call me the Ocean Queen. Some idiots even call me the salt wife, even though that's a completely different entity." As she said this her appearance shifted, flipping from a brunette northerner to a white haired Lyseni, to a black haired Dornishwoman, back to a golden haired Westerlands lady.

"Why are you here?" I asked, "Have you decided to correct the Wolf Lord's actions?" I dared to hope.

"On the contrary, I think his actions were perfectly reasonable" the woman said, her lips forming into a cruel smile. "I'm just annoyed that he wasn't polite enough to offer me the chance to perform the curse myself."

She dares jest about this curse?

"I jest because you deserve it" the woman replied, "As it happens I will offer you a way out however. If you repent of your murder - which let's be honest is very unlikely - I might allow myself to be lenient."

 

**Extras 20**

**Extract from 'Curses of Planetos' by Scientist Marwyn**

**The Black Spot**

The Black Spot is one of the most deadly curses known to man, as never in recorded history has it failed to claim it's target. Once cast, the person is doomed to have their life and all they value crash down around them. The spot is only cast of those known to have broken the custom of guest right - and only by the Old God pantheon (though the Seven use a similar curse of their own).

The spot takes multiple appearances depending upon which god has cast it. These are listed here:

The Wolf Lord: An Axe Head or a Wolf's Head.

The Sea Queen: A Trident or a Dolphin.

The Storm King: A Warhammer, a Stag Head or a Lightning Bolt.

The Stone God: A Pickaxe or a Goat Head.

Frostwing: A Dragon Skull.

The mark is unremovable, by sorcery or by physical tools. It will only vanish upon the afflicted's death, or if the god (rarely) decides to forgive the action.

**The Mark of the Stranger**

The Mark of the Stranger is one of the few curses used by the Seven. It is placed on a person who is convicted of a high crime against the faith, such as kinslaying, breaking guest right or mass genocide. It takes the form of a Shouded Figure and appears on the person's back. Within a few months of the mark appearing the person will be dead, unless they are judged to have sufficiently repented. As with the black spot, it is unremovable.

**Naga's Tooth**

Naga's Tooth unlike most other curses does not take the form of a mark on the person's body. It instead appears as a small grey tooth attached to a pendent which always returns to its victim and is, of course indestructible. It only appears with Ironborn who have murdered other Ironborn (though not if the murder happened in a duel or drowning ritual). Once cursed the person will live for a maximum of six days until the curse activates and they are caused to drown on dry land.


	21. Robyn II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Girl cursed by fate.

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 21**

Robyn Stark

The City of Winterfell, Northos - 9th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
"Why didn't you help me Rob!"

I could hear Brandon's voice again, screaming constantly at what had happened to him - what had been done to him. No matter where in Winterfell I went from the crypts to the towers the voices would never be silent, only quieting down when I was talking to another person. Taking advantage of this fact was the reason why myself, Joanna, Rickard and Cregan were packed into Joanna's room, so as to take advantage of the temporary piece of mind I could gain. Unfortunately it wasn't working as well as I hoped.

"I couldn't Bran!" I said, "None of us knew what was happening until it was too late!" None of us had actually known (even if we did fear it) what exactly had happened to him until that awful moment when Joanna and I stumbled across Brandon's corpse.

"You murdered me!" shouted Brandon, "You pretended we were playing hide and seek and used the opportunity to kill me!"

"No!" I replied, horrified that he could think that I could ever do such a thing. "Brandon, someone else decided to murder you. I will avenge you but I need to know who did it, otherwise I'll just end up attacking the wrong person!"

"But don't you already know who killed him?" asked the Bastard, "A cloak of gold, a cloak of red...If you fail to take revenge, who will? Your father will never return from the south"

"He will" I whispered, "He will return **and I will find a way**."

 **"With my help, little one"** said the voice, **"Accept my gifts and avenge your sibling. Take what could be yours!"**

**"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"**

"Robyn?" asked Joanna, interrupting me from my thoughts. "Are you feeling okay?" We were sitting on her bed against the wall while Rickard played on the floor with Shaggydog and Cregan slept in a cradle. Grey wind and Ghost were cuddled up against each other in a corner.

"Bit of a headache" I muttered, which was code we used to talk about my...issues without worrying our father or my mother.

"How bad was it?" she asked, pulling me in for a hug. "If you need it, I can go get some of your herbs." By my herbs, she meant the vial I kept in my bedroom for when the voices were the worst. We stayed there for a few minutes, locked in the hug.

"I can still hear Brandon" I revealed, "Even after we found his body, he still keeps begging me to avenge him, to kill the people who killed him."

"Does he know who they are?" Joanna asked, "Perhaps we could do something if we knew who they were."

"The Lannisters" I replied, "I'm sure of it, even though I can't think of why'd they want to attack us. And no Jo, we can't!" I said turning to face her, "Father, Sansa and Arya are in the south. No matter whatever friendship remains with Robert Baratheon he would definitely side with his wife considering how little evidence we have."

"You could send a letter to father" Joanna suggested, "see what he thinks?"

"I considered it" I answered, "But how do we know that the Maester's wouldn't open the letter early and get news back to Queen Cersei. I asked what mother thought but she barely seemed to notice I was there!"

"Then we send him a messenger!" Joanna said, "He needs to know now, otherwise the lions might try to kill him or our sisters next! We can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"But how do we explain what we suspect?" I asked, "I don't want to worry him and knowing about the voices will certainly do that!"

"Say we found some blond hair around in the tower" she replied desperately, "Or some fabric or we overheard something! If it comes to it we have to tell him the truth, because at the moment he's a thousand miles away, stuck in a city built on treachery, with none of our power to back him up!" I could hear the voices again louder than ever.

 **"She's forcing you against your will, little one."** said the voice.

"She probably helped them!" shouted Bran.

"Only you know what to do" said Domeric, his voice calming me as always. "Only you can save your family." They were right. Joanna was always on the outside, shunned by my mother. What's to say she hadn't killed Bran herself to force her way in. **Kinslayer! Kinslayer! Kinslayerkinslayerkinslayerkinslay...**

Joanna's slap brought me out of wherever I had gone to.

"You're letting them in again Robyn" she said, "Don't listen to them, listen to me, listen to me." Gradually I was able to come back, aided by Joanna rubbing my forehead and my back. She was right. The voices were wrong. The voices were evil.

"Send the messenger" I decided, "Father needs help and we must answer."

\----------------

I sent the messenger off that afternoon, after holding court in Winterfell's great hall. Thankfully there was nothing that stressful after my breakdown in the morning, though I still made sure to retire to bed earlier than usual. I could tell Joanna was still worried though she had stayed quiet to avoid disturbing my mother.

I was having an odd dream. I was walking through Winterfell at night, snow falling heavily from the sky despite it being the middle of summer. Of course, being a Stark I didn't feel the cold but the constant blizzard made it difficult to see. I wished I had Grey Wind to accompany me.

Soon enough, I realised I was heading into the family crypts. I walked past rows of Stark statues, ancient ancestors and more recent relatives like my aunt and uncle, my grandfather and now Brandon. I continued deeper and now even I could tell that it was cold. Water splashed under my feet and I had to weave between stalactites that had formed from the dripping water. Then I came across a large Wierwood door.

Carved upon the door was the Stark crest, though harsher, crueler than any I had seen and wearing the ancient crown of winter. When I reached out to touch the door it reacted, folding away from my touch upwards and to the sides, leaving a large entranceway for me to walk through.

The room beyond the door was massive and filled with hundreds of objects. Carvings of thousands of animals covered the walls between the alcoves the objects were placed in. All the room seemed to glow with cold, blue light falling from a skylight. But none of that drew my attention. In the centre of the room stood a dark stone slab. On the slab, covered by strong skysteel chains lay a sword made of ice.

The Ice.

I walked towards it, was drawn towards it step by step, reaching out a hand to touch the frozen blade. The sword seemed to strain under it chains, attempting to yank itself towards my outstretched hand.

**"Pick it Up. Pick up the Blade. Claim it's power!"**

I could see something in the blade. A face! White hair, blue eyes, blood pouring from her mouth!

"Robyn stop!" cried my mother.

I opened my eyes. I was standing in the massive room, though it was no longer brightly lit. I stood five feet away from the slab in the centre of the room on which the sword now lay motionless. My mother stood to my side, clutching my still outstretched arm. Far off, I could hear the voice screeching in fury.

"Robyn" my mother asked, "What are you doing?"

For a second, the sword glowed blue.

 

**Extras 21:**

**'The Legend of One-Eye', Unknown Writer**

The Great White Direwolf One-Eye is perhaps the most famous of all the godly companions. He is certainly one of the most active, along with Echo the Dophin and the Father's twin Ravens Truth and Justice. But where does he come from?

The first records of the great Direwolf come from the records of the Night's Watch - predating the Night's King incident some several thousand years ago. According to the records, the Direwolf was responsible for the survival of a large ranging party which it led to safety through a large blizzard. These records show the first sighting of the Direwolf but do not explain where he came from originally, or how he attained immortality.

According to the legends of the Northern mountain clans, the direwolf that would eventually become known as One-Eye was originally the direwolf of Brandon the Builder. He gained his moniker after loosing an eye while in battle against the armies of the Voice-of-Winter. Honoured in life, the direwolf was granted partial godhood in recognition of his actions and has guarded the wilds of Northos ever since.

and no, he will not roll over if you scratch him behind the ears.


	22. Oberyn II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Dornishman in Pentos

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 22**

Oberyn Martell

The City of Pentos, Western Essos - 13th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
_It's a good thing I don't get seasick._

The boat I had taken to Pentos, the 'Dancing Sun' had been stuck outside the harbour for hours due to the mass arrival of members or representatives of the Old Blood of Volantis. The harbour master's representative had made an effort to be polite, but even the biggest idiot in Westeros could tell that he was overwhelmed by all the new arrivals.

If I had announced my true identity, it was likely we could have forced out way in quicker, as no free city would want to upset a trading partner they weren't actually at war with.

_And sometimes not even then..._

I was using one of my favoured disguises for foreign visits, that of Edric the Stormlander. The disguise required the occasional top up of the potion concealed on my belt, but ensured that the world would see me as a black haired, blue eyed man who looked nothing like Oberyn Martell. It was my dearest wish that I would 'accidentally' cause a diplomatic incident that could cause trouble for the Baratheons. Nymeria, who alone of my daughters had been available to travel with me had used a similar disguise though with green eyes rather than blue. When I questioned as to why she just responded by saying "It looks better on me".

_Sometimes I really don't understand my daughters..._

The problem with the disguise potion I was using was that it only projected an image, instead of changing the actual body. This naturally meant the I and Nymeria had to be careful about touching people and that we had to avoid brothels as if they were infected with Greyscale. I was not particularly pleased about this.

_I have to relive my urges somehow!_

I wished that Ellaria had been able to come with me but she unfortunately was allergic to the potion I was using. Doran had insisted that I and whoever I took with me went in disguise so as to prevent attention from being drawn to our house, from either the Targaryens themselves or the Baratheons.

_Doubtless Robert Baratheon would take any excuse for a war with Dorne. Ha! I would relish any chance to kill him and his Lannister bitch!_

\----------------

It was evening by the time Nymeria and I managed to finally get off the boat. I had been forced to assist the sailors in unloading the cargo, so as to keep up the image of a lowborn Stormlander. But finally we were finished and ready to investigate the Old Blood's reasons for flocking to Pentos.

Moving away from the harbour towards the area of the city that I knew contained inns, I gestured for Nymeria to follow me into a side alley, away from the red brick streets filled with people.

"We need to change appearances again" I informed her, "It would look strange for Stormlanders to be near the manses, so use the potion that makes you look like a Pentoshi." While I was saying this I was unclipping the potion from my own belt and preparing to take a swig. As always it tasted of sour milk. I stood still for a few moments with my eyes closed, so as to let the potion take effect. Once the faint tingling feeling coursing through my body ended I straightened up and cast a glance at my daughter. Her features blurred as the changes took effect, shifting from Stormlander to Dornish and then to Pentosi with muddy brown hair and eyes.

_Boring features for a boring city._

"I was enjoying being a Stormlander" Nymeria commented, "Its a shame to drop it so quickly." I laughed.

"Better this than being caught. Even if nothing came of it, Doran would not be impressed." I grabbed my bag from where I had placed it down and pulled out two sets of folded brown robes from inside. It was a shame the potion didn't disguise clothes as well but never mind.

"Servant robes" I said as I passed the smaller of the two to my daughter, "We'll fit right in wearing these." Nymeria screwed up her nose as she took the robes.

"Did you have to get two that smelled quite this bad?" she asked. To avoid having to see watch her changing I faced the opposite wall to her while I undressed and redressed.

"It's all part of the disguise" I replied, "Besides, I thought you would be happy! You're always asking for me to bring you on one of my trips." The robes consisted of a hard hide shirt and trousers for me and a thick wooden dress for Nymeria. Both of the sets were equipped with secret pockets, so I immediately stowed my foldable spear (admittedly not quite as good as my favoured one) across my back.

"You done?" I asked.

"Yep" Nymeria replied, as I turned around I could see her pulling her bag across her shoulders. I grabbed my bag and began to lead the way out of the alley.

"You know, some people would find two Dornish hanging out in an alley like this to be awfully suspicious" said a man's voice, sounding faintly amused. Nymeria and I whirled around, hands flying to our weapons. Before our eyes a figure detached itself from one of the roofs and leaped to the ground in front of us.

"At ease, Martells" the man said, "I mean you no harm." He was fairly tall with dark hair and piercing light blue eyes.

"Who are you?" I demanded, "and how do you know who we are?"

"Shad Koridan, brother of Barum. And as for why I know who you are, well...let's just say your brother isn't the only one with spies." A spy in Sunspear? Impossible, we would have discovered him during the purges we performed of Varys' spies only a few years ago. He must have seen something...

_...There are rumours that it's possible to spy on someone with magic. And the Koridans never throw away any information and prize the hordes of artefacts they've stolen..._

"Why is a Koridan in Pentos?" Nymeria asked, "Planning on stealing something?" Shad barked out a chuckle.

"Not today" he replied cheerfully, "I imagine I'm here for the same reason you are, keeping an eye on the Targaryen kids." I nodded reluctantly. It annoyed me to have to share our mission with another - before we got to the manse even. At least it would be an opportunity for information however, and the Koridans didn't particularly care either way for the state of the continent and so could probably be trusted not to spread the news around.

"What have you heard so far? I asked Shad.

"Should we trust him?" Nymeria said, speaking before the Koridan could. "For all we know he call spill our identities to the Old Blood!"

"Oh, you shouldn't trust me at all" Shad replied, "Each of us have our own desires and if they require the other party to be ruined, then we'll have to fight." He smiled. "But if I wanted you dead I would have attacked while you were changing."

"Right..." I replied, "so as I was saying, what have you heard?"

"The Old Blood and the Targaryens are going to meet in the main hall of the Magister Illyrio's manse to discuss the terms of an alliance. Security is fairly tight, they've put up wards that only allow someone wearing one of these" he pointed to a bracelet on his left arm "to pass. I would offer to give you one but I'm afraid I've only...retrieved one from a servant so far." Then myself and Nymeria would have to retrieve our own. Presumably the servants and slaves of the Old Blood were outfitted with the bracelets as otherwise the Old Blood would have to serve themselves, which I knew would never actually happen.

"Is the servant's entrance covered by these wards?" I asked.

\----------------

It had taken over an hour to be able to 'replace' two servants and dispose of their bodies. The Koridan had vanished ages ago claiming boredom, but I suspected he just wanted to find a good seat. Finally however we were in the hall - serving immature bigots with only half a brain between them, but in regardless. I had told Nymeria to stay close to me incase we had to make a break for safety. I could tell she wasn't happy about the situation but thankfully she didn't argue.

Glancing up at the high table, I could see both of the two Targaryen children (Daenerys and Viserys) as well as a fat Pentoshi man and a few high-ranking members of the Old Blood.

_If only we could have replaced one of them instead of a servant._

The feast was dragging on as apparently the Volantines wanted to finish eating before sorting out why they had come here. I could have sworn that we had been here for hours already. Finally though, one of the Old Blood at the high table for up to speak.

"Friends, allies and guests lend me your ears" he said, "You all know why we have gathered here tonight, to put this child of Valyria back on his rightful throne!"

_Why would a Volantines be interested in the Seven Kingdoms?_

"But I confess, there is another reason I have suggested this alliance" he continued, "For too long the other city states have refused to recognise our authority as the true heirs of the freehold, correct?" He was answered by a bellowing cheer. "I say no more to this. Magister Illyrio has revealed to me some of the greatest treasures in the world, dragon eggs!"

_What?_

"As we have seen the Targaryens have the power to still hatch the dragons. And with dragons once more, our conquests shall be unstoppable!"

 

**Extras 22**

**Extract from 'The Art of War' by various Koridans**

**The Art of Disguise by Barum Koridan**

The ability to disguise oneself has always been an important part of warfare. Whether for infiltrating an enemies' base or for use in assassination, it has always been key to our continued advantage over all other factions. This chapter lays the magical methods that can be used to disguise yourself and others.

**The Shimmer Potion**

The Shimmer Potion is by far the most common type of disguise magic in the world, or at least west of Yi-Ti. It is a foul tasting potion that projects the illusion of different features onto your body. However it does not work for physical contact and can be thrown off by experienced mages.

The ingredients for the potion are as follows:

1/2 ounce of Rakweed.

2 ounces of Burntfoil.

1/4 ounce of Fool's Gold

1 Amber shard

**The Rutrid Leaf**

The Rutrid leaf is only found in the grey waste, east of Yi-Ti and the plains of the Jhoqos Nhai. They are very difficult to come by and taste horrible but when boiled with the hairs of a chosen subject, they are the closest thing possible to a shapeshifting potion. However, any user should make sure to take a sample of your own hair first to make sure you can change back.

**Invisibility Wards**

These are the most common of the methods of Koridoran itself as I have taken to inscribing them on my own guards' armours. They can be turned on and off at will by the wearer. However, not only do the wards fade over time but they also require a skilled rune-carver to be used in the first place.

**Illusion Magic**

Illusion Magic can be used to disguise yourself on a large scale, though as always it depends on both your skill as a caster, what you are attempting to do and who is opposing you.

**Skinwalking**

Skinwalking, or the use of skins as disguises is one of the few methods I have deemed unusable due to the disgrace it brings upon those who have already passed on. It involves using highly complex magic to skin a person - alive - and bind their spirit to the removed skin, which can then be used as a disguise by anyone. A user simply has to wear the skin to take on the form and characteristics of that person.


	23. Shireen I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you remember?

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 23**

Shireen Baratheon

Dragonstone, off the eastern coast of the Crownlands - 8th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
"Awaken, child. Awake and listen."

I was standing on the edge of a crag overlooking a vast glowing city. In the distance massive mountains spewed fire in rivers that ran down their slopes to weave between the city's towers and streets.

And in the sky flew Dragons.

Golden ones, black ones, green ones, red ones - dragons of every size and shape and colour. Their cries and calls drifted up to me on the crag, a strange melody that warmed my heart.

"Awaken child and see."

Darkness and wind and fury rose up from beneath the crag with a mighty roar and the beating of wings. The...entity seemed to shift form every second, moving from dragon to human to something in between. All that remained constant were its eyes, which oozed and glowed like lava.

"You may have forgotten who you are, but we remember. Even if others forget."

I felt a gust of warm air cover me, as if the being had breathed upon me. And then, I was different. My hair shone Targaryen white. My clothes were red and black. My right hand grasped a large sword of black Valyrian Steel, ready to defend myself - or attack.

"Awaken child. The days are already drawing down and you do not have much more time."

\----------------

The Dragonmount glowed in the early morning night, the faint cloud of ash heading in a southerly direction with the wind. My chambers, on the second highest floor of the central keep (only exceeded by the Chamber of the Table) overlooked the eastern side of the island, facing directly towards the distant spectre of Essos, just visible on the clearest of days. The walls were patterned with images of stag's running among roses, though in some of the areas where the paint had faded the old dragon designs could still be seen.

_The legacy of the Dragons still hangs over this place._

I pulled myself up from my bed and walked over to the large cupboard on the opposite side of the room to pick out a dress for the day. My mother had assigned me handmaidens that could assist me with my dressing, but honestly I preferred to do as much as possible myself.

_Just because we're highborn doesn't mean we're useless._

Besides which, while my father rarely showed emotion (aside from subtle teeth grinding), I thought he would be pleased to know that I was trying to do things on my own, instead of being a burden. The fact that he regarded my maids as Tyrell sops contributed to this. Not that his dislike for the Tyrells extended to my mother, of course. A blind man could tell the true affection they have for each other, even with their hidden emotions and the tense relationship between the Baratheons and the Tyrells.

_Well, not including Uncle Renly but then we all know the reason for that._

I finally selected a simple yellow and black dress with some basic rose embroidery. It would make my mother happy for me to acknowledge her house, while not making any suggestion that I was against my birth house. Or at least that's what I hoped, because the gods know that if someone wants to interpret something, they'll do it regardless of what I'm wearing - or not wearing.

_But still, I suppose it's worth the effort to try._

Before I stepped out the door I made sure to grab the small carving I had been working on this week; a small dragon carved out of a strange green rock from distant Yi-Ti.

\----------------

The Chamber of the Table was a massive hall, taking up an entire floor of the keep of Dragonstone. The table itself was designed so as to show as perfect a representation of the known world as possible, with the old valyrian magic of the table updating to represent the creation of new keeps and the loss of old ones. On top of the table were arranged thousands of individually designed pieces, representing armies and important figures. For example, the figure representing Eddard Stark and my uncle King Robert were placed in the narrow sea opposite Duskendale as that is where they were presumed to have reached on the journey from Winterfell to King's Landing.

My mother Jana was sat at the seat next to the Arbor island, with a tray of food laid out on a small table next to her.

"Good morning mother" I said to announce my presence. She turned around at the sound of my voice and gestured for me to come sit with her.

"Good morning Shireen" she replied, "I hope you slept well?"

"I had the dream again" I said as I sat down and poured myself some wine. My mother frowned.

"Perhaps it's the island causing problems" she suggested, "You didn't have any dreams when you visited your father did you?"

"No mother" I replied, "But I'd like to see father again." I hadn't been able to see my father for several months now, as despite the short distance between Dragonstone and King's Landing (just across Bloodwater Bay), he was usually up to his teeth in the paperwork of trying to do both his job as master of ships and uncle Renly's job as well when he was too busy 'sticking it' in Ser Loras. The last time I and my younger siblings Steffon and Melessa had been able to see was during an inspection of the Royal Fleet.

"I know you would" my mother smiled, "I'll send him a raven after prayers."

\----------------

The temple on Dragonstone was one of the greatest in the realm, second only to those in the King's Temple in King's Landing and the old Dragonpit destroyed by Baelor the Mad. The temple was designed after the body of a dragon, the walls being painted to look like scales and the vaulted ceiling being carved to resemble a massive ribcage. At the far end of the temple, there was a painted relief showing the ancient city of Valyria - identical to the one in my dreams. My father used to worship the Storm King and my mother worshipped the Seven, but I had always found the greatest companionship with the gods of Old Valyria.

"Balerion. Vhaegar. Meraxes" I said, kneeling before the altar. "Accept my prayers and speak to me. Tell me the reason for my dreams." The hall was silent but for a second, the eyes of one of the carvings glowed and spoke.

"Remember."

 

**Extras 23**

**Excerpt from 'A Short Guide to the Gods of Westeros, Northos and Essos' by Maester Wyman**

**The Pantheon of Old Valyria**

The Valyrian Pantheon is both one of the greatest and longest surviving religions, and one of the weakest. The faith has followers on both sides of the Narrow Sea, with the two sects of the faith being altogether very different.

**The Essos Branch (Volantis and other southern Free Cities)**

The Valyrian Pantheon retains a strong foothold in the south-west of Essos, due primarily to the legacy of Old Valyria. However in recent years the power of the faith had begun to fade with both the start of the retirement of the gods from mortal affairs and the rise of the red faith of Rhillor. In practice, the religion is closer than the Westeros branch to how Old Valyria was believed to worship with regular blood sacrifice (though usually just cattle) and incense being burnt all day and night. The faith works on a solitary basis, with being a leader of a temple being the highest position possible for an applicant to the priesthood. Each temple usually only worships a select group of gods due to the hundreds of deities that make up the pantheon.

**The Westeros Branch (Crownlands, Stormlands)**

The Valyrian Pantheon was brought over to Westeros by the Targaryens and it enjoyed a brief period of overwhelming power during the reigns of Aegon and Aenys. However the actions of Maegar the Cruel destroyed much of the structure of the spreading faith, reducing it to merely sects in the Crownlands, Stormlands and Riverlands. The faith suffered further under the reign of Baelor the Mad who executed the majority of the higher priests in the Crownlands and destroyed the ancient Dragonpit. While the following King (Viserys) tried to repair as much of the damage as possible the faith had never recovered and fell to minorities in the Crownlands and the Stormlands. The western faith is governed by a High Priest (possibly because of the influence of the seven) and only worships four of the gods.

Balerion the Strong: The first male of the four. Prioritises Strength.  
Vhaegal the Just: The first female of the four. Prioritises Duty  
Meraxes the Noble: The second female of the four. Prioritises honour.  
The Prince: The second male of the four. Prioritises destiny.

Note: in canon the dragons of Aegon and his wives were named after the gods of Valyria. I've kept that naming setup for this universe.


	24. Brynden II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dreams of Darkness. Dreams of Despair.

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 24**

Brynden Justman

The Eyrie, Capital of the Vale - 12th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
Lysa was screaming in her sleep again. Maester Colemon frantically worked on her, attempting to wake her up from whatever strange nightmare the fever had put her in now. Her son and I nervously hovered to one side, wondering if there was anything we could do to help.

_It's never been this bad before._

Lysa's nightmares had been constantly getting worse for weeks but they had never been as severe as this before, she had always been able to wake up. Even worse was the fever that had come over her, causing her to collapse in the middle of the great hall of the Eyrie, in front of the entire court. I could tell Robert was badly affected by his mother's worsening mental state, as even after the souring of the love between them he still naturally cared for the woman who brought him into the world. Lysa was muttering words now, though they made no sense to me or any of the others.

"Fire to the East and Ice to the North." she said, her head jerking back and forth with the tremors that shock her body. "Three Dragons breathe upon the Dawn." Robert, unable to restrain himself any further, ran to her side.

"Mother, Mother please!" he begged, holding one of her sweating hands "Wake up!" But Hoster's daughter still refused to wake.

"A Sword of Flame and Hero's Woe. Ice and Blood combined prevail." Colemon wheeled back with a gasp.

"That's a line from the Last Hero Prophecy" he said, "But the only copies of that are in Winterfell and the citadel, how could she have learnt it? Neither the Justmans or the Arryns are old enough to have copies of the manuscript."

_More to the point, why would she want to know a prophecy?_

Mother Rhoyne and Seven worshippers had a severe distrust of prophecy, descended from when prophecy had foretold the doom of our ancestors. We regarded anything that tried to lay out the future with suspicion, even including the pantheons of the Old Gods and Old Valyria. I knew this had been a sore point for Catelyn when she had to convert as part of Northos law, even moreso than the traditional sacrifice northern queens (and princesses) did when they were expecting.

"A Ruined Fort laid open Bare, A Hero Born under a Comet's Glare." Lysa was continuing to say the strange words haunting her mind. "Remember the Past and All Before, The Dark will come before the Dawn." With that final line Lysa slumped back into the bed and ceased to move. And breathe.

_No. She can't die! Not like this!_

"Lysa, Lysa!" I said, rushing to her bed "Stay strong. Think of your son!" The Gods could not be cruel enough to take his father then pause before taking his mother. "Lysa!" The Maester was pressing a hand to her forehead.

"Mother!" Robert cried.

"I think the worst has passed, my lords" Colemon said, "Her fever is steadily dropping and her heartbeat seems to be returning to normal." I could see now what Robert and I had both looked over in our panic. Lysa was breathing, slowly and weakly perhaps, but breathing nonetheless.

_Thank the gods._

"Ice and Blood combined - what does that mean?" Robert asked, "and for that matter what's the prophecy of the Last Hero?" Colemon looked awkwardly at the boy.

"The prophecy is only known to the Maester Order, my Lord." he said, "I'm not sure how they would feel..."

"If it saves my niece Maester" I interjected, "I will personally shield you from whatever actions your superiors attempt to take." The order rarely got off their asses in Newtown anyway, but if necessary I could take him under joint Arryn and Justman protection.

"I will too!" said Robert, "and I'm sure my cousins will help us!" Presumably he was referring to the Starks rather than any bastards Edmure had managed to get.

_I hope Cat responds to the letter I sent her soon. Robert needs friends just as much as his mother needs her sister._

"The Last Hero prophecy" Colemon began, "Is one of the oldest known written works, only succeeded by the transcript of the Great Prophecy on Black Isle and some of the earlier records in Yi-Ti. It pertains to the history of Northos primarily, so I'm not entirely sure..."

"The Justmans have northern blood in them from a prior invasion." I said, "That's probably the source of Lysa's...visions. Robert, you haven't had any, odd dreams have you?"

"None as such uncle" he replied, "But regardless, please continue Maester."

"I'm not entirely sure how the lines go so forgive me if I'm getting some wrong." he said, "When all is lost yet all is found, When night has come eternally, then shall the Others come again." The Others. The spectres of fairytales and legends, never seen south of the wall in millennia - aside from the otherbloods of course. "The wall will fall, the kingdoms burn - this line is why we think Westeros itself might be involved as Northos only has one kingdom - a corpse shall wander broken by, a...a faceless death, a bird takes flight, Ice and Blood combined prevail."

"What does it mean?" Robert asked, "It just sounds like gibberish to me."

"A colleague of mine Marwyn always thought it referred to the Otherbloods, or at least before he left the order." Colemon said, "But my lords, generations of Maester's have studied these lines and the order is still nowhere closer to figuring out their meaning."

"I understand" I said, "Thank you for the information you've been able to give us. I shall not take up any more of your time. Robert, come with me. Your mother needs her rest." The boy looked reluctant.

"Could I not stay with her uncle Brynden?" he asked, "I want to be here, in case anything happens."

_He is still so young._

"As you wish nephew" I replied, "I'll have your food sent up." With that I turned on my heels and marched from the room. I had a visit to make.

\----------------

Runestone, the oldest castle in the Vale was a large reddish-brown fortress, made of the stone harvested from the local quarries. It's bronze gates and portcullis reflected the setting sun as I, riding Fleetfoot the griffin swooped in for a landing before the castle. Chivalry dictated that a true knight would walk into a another's home rather than flying straight into the courtyard. This also prevented being shot down, though I doubted that they would shoot down a griffin decorated with my recognisable version of the Justman crest, a black hourglass on a field of blue. Regardless, I landed outside the gates and walked with Fleetfoot through the gatehouse and into the castle courtyard. Lord Yohn Royce was already there waiting for me, having presumably been notified when my griffin first came in sight.

"Ser Brynden!" he rumbled, "It is good to make your acquaintance again." His second youngest son Robar was standing behind him, his other children presumably caught up in other business. "Well don't just stand there boy, fetch bread and salt!" Robar made to hurry off.

"That won't be necessary my lord, I can only stay for an hour. I need to look at the archives." The Royce archives were some of the greatest in the realm, though not on the scale of any of the great houses (except the Arryns and the Harlaws) or the Hightowers. But what I was looking for was information of prophecy, which the Royce's were known to have with their copy of one of the books of Alyssa the Great.

"The archives" Yohn began, "contain some of the greatest relics of my house. They are not to be taken lightly."

"I know, my Lord and believe me if there was another way I would take it, but I ask this for the sake of my niece."

"We have heard that Lady Lysa is unwell." Yohn said, "Is the Maester not able to heal her?"

"She recovers fine" I answered, "But in her sleep, we believe she spoke a prophecy and with your blessing, I would check for information." Yohn nodded.

"The Royces have long served the Eyrie and the Arryns. We shall not stop now. Follow me."

\----------------

The archives of House Royce were kept in a solitary chamber, beneath the main keep of Runestone. The walls were carved with various first men symbols, old but freshly painted to prevent theft or damage. The book of Alyssa was kept in a heavy bronze chest at the far end of the room, embellished with the crest the Royces used during the days of their kingship.

"I always feel cold when coming down here" Yohn said while unlocking the chest, "It always feels as if something could leap out on me. Ahhh, here we go." He pulled out a heavy brown tome, covered by the hide of a long dead species. "The Book of the prophecies."

_Behind my back I made the Rhoynar sign to ward off evil._

"Here we've got most of the prophecies Alyssa made in her life time; the great prophecy, the Last Hero, the Yi-Ti prophecy - even the combination."

"What's that?" I'd heard of the other ones, even though I had avoided learning the words.

"The combination" Yohn said as he flipped through the pages, "Is a strange one made up of lines from about three or four others. Apparently, it's the one Rhaegar Targaryen got obsessed over according to the rumours I've heard." He reached the page and there embellished in gold ink were the words Lysa had spoken.

"Does it mean anything?" I asked, "and for that matter, why was Rhaegar obsessed with this prophecy over all others?"

"Apparently it was the only copy of an actual prophecy the Targaryens had left after the scouring of Dragonstone in the wars caused by Aegon IV and the burning of Summerhall. They thought - they knew it as the prophecy of the prince who was promised." The door banged open and young Robar barged his way inside.

"Father!" he started, "I'm sorry to interrupt but the top of the Eyrie is lit up blue!"

_Lysa! Robert!_

The Eyrie, like several other castles in the wider world possessed some magic candles, which could be used to signal to allies from far away. Red was to be used for summoning armies, green for commanding a stand down, and blue...

Blue to mark the passing of an Arryn.

 

**Extras 24**

**Known Prophecies of the World**

**The Great Prophecy:**

Fire to the East and Ice to the North.  
Light to the West and Shadow to the South.  
Silence in the centre where none can see,  
No more will man remember their legacies.  
A cup of ages, a sword of flame,  
A dagger of sand and a helm of blood.  
Remember the past and all before.  
Or fall and crumble for eternal more.

**Rhaegar's Prophecy:**

Fire to the East and Ice to the North...  
Three Dragons breathe upon the Dawn...  
A Sword of Flame and Hero's Woe...  
Ice and Blood combined Prevail...  
A Ruined Fort left open Bare...  
A Hero Born under a Comet's Glare...  
Remember the Past and all Before...  
The Dark will come before the Dawn...

**Actual Prophecy of the Prince who was Promised:**

When Thirteen Flames have spluttered out,  
When Water fills with Prince's blood,  
When Eggs have burnt and Children died.  
Then will the Flames of War be fanned.  
A Hero born under a Comet's glare,  
A Pyre waiting for death to hail,  
A Child hid among the snow,  
Three Dragons breathe upon the Dawn.

**Prophecy of Azor Ahai:**

The Dark will come before the Dawn,  
The Day shall break but none shall see,  
A Ruined Fort laid open bare,  
A Field of Corpses with grass for hair,  
A Sword of Flame and Hero's woe,  
Today and Tomorrow, the Fire Grows.

**Prophecy of the Last Hero:**

When all is lost yet all is found,  
When Night has come unendingly,  
Then shall the Others come again.  
The Wall will fall, the Kingdoms burn,  
A Corpse shall wander broken by.  
A Faceless death, A Bird takes flight,  
Ice and Blood combined prevail.


	25. Arya II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Hive of Scum and Villany

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 25**

Arya Stark

New King's Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms - 23rd Rhoynetide 299AC

  
The first thing that hit you was the smell of the sweat and shit of half a million dirty bodies slowly suffocating to death.

The second thing was the underscent of the millions of people who had already died.

Robyn's words echoed in my head "The south is a cruel place Arya. If you give it a chance, it will suck the life straight out of you."

_Why couldn't we have all stayed in Winterfell?_

"Arya" asked my second sister Sansa, "Are you feeling okay?" Three weeks ago I would rejoiced for her to be worried about me but now I just felt irritated.

"I'm fine" I replied. A crease appeared between Sansa eyes but she smiled and returned to staring out the window, ignoring the glove she was meant to be sewing. Her work was mostly completed, but considering she had been working on it for over two weeks - a very long time for Sansa - it was just another sign of how weird she had been since Brandon's death. It had started with the shouting match she had got into with the prick, which had got all three of us - because of course Robyn and I got dragged into the fight - being confined to our rooms. Doubtless mother would have come to tell us off if she wasn't refusing to leave her rooms for some reason. Since then Sansa had just got odder, sniping at the southerners constantly, always trying to keep an eye on me and oddest of all, practising with my knives! Who was this...thing who'd possessed my sister? And if she was going to act like this, what did it mean for me?

"Princesses!" came the voice of Jory from outside the cabin, "Your father has asked that you get ready to disembark."

_Ready to appear in front of the southerners you mean._

I didn't like the strange silk dresses Sansa and I had been given to wear while we were stuck in the court of King's Landing. They were too ornate and too flimsy, so much that I expected them to rip the moment we put them on. Sansa had also complained that they were too exposing and made her feel like a whore - though I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that since my dresses seemed to cover everything. Father had insisted that we wore them however as apparently the heat down here was not kind to northerners, least of all Starks with winter in their blood.

_We can walk in the middle of a blizzard and not even be affected. Winter will only come to our foes._

We had also both been given these odd silver tiaras modelled after Robyn's that were apparently very plain, but considering few northerners actually wore silver jewellery (aside from amulets and charms) I felt embarrassed to wear the things. They were meant to mark our status on foreign shores as we wouldn't be able to command the allegiance of people as we would in Northos. Sansa was constantly telling me to stop reaching up to adjust the tiara as apparently I would show up father and our house.

_It's one of the few traces left of the old Sansa._

Unbeknownst to the rest of my family was the Wierwood bracelet I had stuck in one of the pockets of the dress. I had considered wearing it on an arm (concealed by a sleeve) , but when I had tried it out in Winterfell I had always felt suddenly...cold, despite the ice in my blood.

"I think this will prove useful..." The bracelet served as a constant reminder of the words of the Wolf Lord and the visions of horror I had seen. "The future is built upon the past..."

"Forget the past and the future will forever be out of reach." I mumbled under my breath. I had struggled to get to sleep that night, despite the kind words of my mother. I imagined it was hard for her, moving from the prophecy-hating Rhoynar to the prophecy-heavy first men. I knew, alone of all my siblings that she still quietly followed Mother Rhoyne, even if she openly followed the Old God pantheon and took part in their rituals; including the harvest, the solstices and the motherhood ritual. I'd never seen my mother perform one of the sacrifices and I could only dimly remember the one Robyn had done for Cregan.

"Did you say something Arya?" my sister asked. She - of course - had managed to change into the ornate dress quicker than I and was just fixing the tiara in her hair. I could see she had hidden a knife in a holster on one of her legs.

"No" I replied and forced the door to our cabin open so I could escape any more awkward questions. Nymeria bounded to her feet and squeezed her way out of the door in front of me, doubtless eager to be able to run around again.

_Why can't you just go back to normal and stop trying to replace me?_

Sansa followed me out onto the deck of the Royal ship accompanied by Adara (formerly my aunt Lyanna's direwolf). The ship had been built with the money gained during the Greyjoy rebellion and had been given the name Wander by my father, in honour of my grandfather Rickard's direwolf. We were just approaching the harbour of King's Landing now as we had been forced to wait for King Robert's family to disembark themselves.

_Doubtless the bitch would throw a tantrum if we were allowed to go first._

My father stood at the prow of the ship, casting his eyes over the massive city that awaited us. King's Landing - well, the second King's Landing was the largest city I had ever seen, even larger than Winterfell, Frosthaven and White Harbour. It sprawled out over three hills, each crowned with a massive structure; the Black Keep, the Sept of Daemon and the second Dragonpit. The inner city (encompassing the three hills and the area in-between them) was surrounded by a mighty curtain wall. Much of the city rested outside the walls however, like water escaping from a prison. Here and there, the ruins of the Old King's Landing, the city from the time of Baelor the Mad could be seen, poking out from between the houses and shops. A wall here, a gatehouse there. On the hill of Aegon one of the towers of the old red keep could still be seen, one of the few things to truly survive the sea dragons rampage.

_I still think it smells like shit._

\----------------

Finally, after what seemed to be hours the Wander was able to approach the docks and disembark. Father's guards (obviously) exited the ship first and formed up in protective ranks on each side of the gangplank. Then in was father's turn and he strode down onto the harbour, accompanied by his direwolf Rodrick (father to Nymeria and brother to Adara).

Arranged facing us was the royal court of the Seven Kingdoms. I already knew King Robert's family, his bitch of a wife (as Jo had quietly called her), his prick of a heir, Cassana and the other two children. Cassana (or Cass as Rickard called her) was the only halfway decent one in that family, probably because the rest of them all took after the Lannisters. The rest of the court was made up of many different people, barely any of which bore resemblance to the others. There was a thin, wiry man with a waxed moustache, a pair of men who looked like King Robert, a greying older man dressed like a sailor, two old, balding men and a fat and bald man in vibrant orange robes. The Knights of the Kingsguard stood beside the court, armours embellished with the prayers and charms of the Seven. King Robert strode forwards to welcome my father.

"Since we need to get the official business out of the way first!" he shouted (he was always bellowing), "Eddard Stark, King of Winter! Welcome to King's Landing!"

"Thank you King Robert" said my father, waking forwards to embrace the man, "Your words are most welcome." With the formal business finished, the other king led my father forward to introduce him to the court. I could pick out the occasional name like "Stannis...Varys...Littlefinger" but most of them were were blurred in with the cheering of the crowd of smallfolk.

I suddenly felt the sensation of eyes on me and I turned around to try and spot who was staring. It was a tall man with dark hair, dressed in dark (though finely made) clothes. His eyes were flicking between members of our party until they came to rest on Sansa.

For a second, the man's relaxed expression slipped, to be replaced by a oddly worried one.

"Sansa, Arya" called my father, "come over here to meet your grandfather." As we walked over I could see the man my father was talking about. He was slightly portly and was dressed in a blue and gold doublet with an clasp based on a pair of scales. He had greying red hair and deep blue eyes. "This is Lord Hoster Justman, your mother's father." Sansa curtseyed and after a look from my father, I did the same.

"You both look just like your mother did at your age" said Lord Hoster, "though I can see a bit of your father in your features." I stayed silent, not knowing how to reply, even as Sansa said thank-you.

"Ned!" interrupted King Robert (thank the gods, that was getting awkward), "do you remember Barum?" It was the man from before, smirking and having apparently recovered from his odd shock at Sansa's appearance. I could see he had a spear strapped to his back now that he was up close and the clasp based on a goblet attached to his doublet.

"Lord Barum" my father said, silently squaring his shoulders, "I was not aware that you would be here."

"It was kind of a last minute decision" replied Barum, "I was visiting Pentos and decided to make the journey since it was convenient."

"Why were you in Pentos?" asked King Robert, whose smile had vanished. "The Targaryens are in Pentos."

"And I couldn't care less what happens to them" the man answered, "I was curious about the Old Blood's visit. Do you remember the last time we met?" King Robert smiled.

"Ah, the Greyjoy rebellion!" he exclaimed, "that was a brilliant war wasn't it Ned?"

"It was exceedingly brutal towards the smallfolk" my father reminded, "not least of all those on Pyke when we had to storm it."

"Bah!" the King replied, "they deserved it for following that twit Balon."

"Those who surrendered were allowed amnesty" Barum added, "and while I took my fair share of the loot - including the Greyjoy sword - there was enough left for the islands to recover. Eventually." My father was still frowning and I could tell he was not pleased by the other men's lack of sorrow for the cost of the war. King Robert seemed to have realised this as well.

"Well unless we want to stand here all day" he bellowed, "we should see you to your rooms Ned."

\----------------

The glade of trees glowed in the evening light. Two girls, around eleven and twelve stood in front of the heart tree. The youngest of the two was holding a knife.

"I don't care what mother says. You're as much my sibling as any of the others" said the younger girl, before she slit the palm of her hand open. The older girl took the knife.

"We'll always be sisters" she said, slitting open her palm in turn. "No matter what will try to stop us."

A wolf howled in the darkness.

 

**Extras 25**

**Extract from 'The Fall of the Greyjoys' by Historian Maegor.**

The destruction of the the two fleets by the forces of the Stormlands and the dragon Frostwing spelled the true end to the Greyjoy rebellion. Both of Balon's oldest sons were dead, along with his brother Victarion and Aeron. His wife's suicide the morning following the rebellion should only have confirmed this. But Balon refused to surrender.

In this situation, the wise option would have been to withdraw all his soldiers to a few of the Iron Isles that could be well defended and scourge the rest so that they could not be used against the Ironborn by the allied fleets of Northos, Westeros and Koridoran. Balon, however did not see this and attempted to hold onto every one of the islands and his small gains on the mainland, despite the troop shortages and the ridiculous number of foes the Ironborn had. The Merlings were still allied to the Ironborn, but even with them the situation was worse than catastrophic.

Sure enough, the few remaining gains on the mainland fell, places like Fair Isle being taken back in less than a night) and it was soon the turn of the Isles themselves. The Lonely Light was the first isle to fall, being taken in an early morning raid by Shad Koridan with very little effort. Lord Farwynd was apparently tied to a rock and chucked into the sea after the occupiers got fed up with his attempts to summon the Drowned God.

The other islands fell very quickly as well. Aside from Great Wyk, Harlaw and Pyke they were all taken with little trouble by the rebels. The situation was made even worse when Great Wyk surrendered to the Northmen without a fight and Harlaw threw themselves on the mercy of King Robert, who in her infinite generosity agreed to accept.

Soon only Pyke was left, armed only with men and merlings, all the Krakens being dead and the sea dragons having been extinct for centuries. But still Balon refused to yield.

The Fall of Pyke - as it is named in countless songs - happened in three days and three nights. The city (though it barely deserved the title) was crushed in the first day, the rest of the island apart from the castle fell in the second and Pyke castle itself burnt in the third. With the aid of the guild of the alchemists and the allied dwarf armies, the two spears of rock which held up towers were made to collapse into the sea, trapping Balon's last loyal supporters in the only remaining tower. It is believed that Euron and Theon Greyjoy perished in the collapse of the towers.

The war ended with a furious final duel in the throne room of Pyke. Balon Greyjoy had his face melted off by the lightning expelled off the warhammer Darkfall; his armour providing no protection against its power. The Merling King was also decapitated by Eddard Stark with the cursed greatsword Ice, it's scales and claws proving no match for the blood of winter. And so, with all the Greyjoys dead (except one girl) the rebellion ended and peace returned to the Seven Kingdoms.


	26. Jon II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This man needs to die. Now.

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 26**

Jon Connington

Magister Illyrio's Manse, Pentos - 15th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
King Viserys smiled nobly as the priest of Valyria announced him and his sister Daenerys, man and wife. The girl was crying softly but that was clearly no more than tears of joy and nervousness, as what woman would turn away a Targaryen prince - nay, a Targaryen King!

_If only Rhaegar had been granted a sister to wed. Aerys would never have had to disgrace his son with a Dornish bride if Rhaella had succeeded in her duty._

But now, now the next generation of Targaryens would be able to carry on the legacy and retake the kingdom that had been stolen by Robert Baratheon. Doubtless, the news of the marriage would inspire and inflame the hearts of the loyalists over the narrow sea. When the time came for the invasion most of the realm would rise for House Targaryen, as well as their supporters in Northos, Eastern and Western Dorne and Koridoran.

_If the other rulers resist they will have to be removed, their kingdoms added to the Targaryen realm or passed into the hands of a house too weak to resist us._

But that is unlikely. Once cooler heads prevailed and they saw just how much of a monster Robert Baratheon was (endorsing the murder of poor prince Aegon!), they would unify behind us to usher in a new era of prosperity under the dragon banners. Once the Baratheons were driven to extinction (up to and including any children), the King would need a new lord of Storm's End and the Stormlands. I would likely be chosen for the position due to the King's gratitude for my never faltering loyalty, but in all honesty I would be happy just to see Griffin's Roost again. The pastures of grazing animals. The skies filled with griffin cries. The old family keep, made of cold stone but forever warm to a Connington or their friends.

_I shall stand on the battlements once I've returned, stand and look out at the purple evening sky._

\----------------

The wedding feast was held in the grand hall of Magister Illyrio's Manse. The walls were ordained with tapestries from throughout the world and each of the stained glass windows depicted a famous event from history. The Silence of Lorath. The Rhoynar Wars. And behind the high table, an immense window showing the Doom of Valyria. The destruction of the ancient civilisation was blamed on many things, from an accident with magic, to all of the volcanoes of the peninsula erupting at once, to an deliberate attack by the Targaryens to wipe out all other Dragonlords.

_How dare they accuse the Royal Line of such acts!_

The fall of Valyria was not an occasion to mourn however. For any Targaryen supporter, the Doom of Valyria was an event to celebrate for it led directly to the Targaryens taking their rightful place as rulers as Westeros. Eternally wise, eternally beautiful and eternally noble. Even Aerys, driven into insanity by the cruel acts of the rebels and their slandering of him and Rhaegar, always provided wise counsel and only wished the best for the kingdom.

_And now he's regarded as mad and Rhaegar's spoken of as a rapist._

The girl, Lyanna Stark had to have gone willingly. Rhaegar, my Rhaegar would never have taken someone against their will. More than likely the girl threw herself at Rhaegar's feet, perhaps to run away from her brute of a betrothed. Or even more likely, as part of a northern scheme to steal the Iron Throne.

_"Ice and Blood combined prevail"_

I was sat at the high table as befitted the hand of the King, just across from Viserys and his sister. The girl had thankfully stopped crying and embarrassing her family and a few stern words from her brother-husband.

_It's good to see he understands that he must keep firm control over her, lest she turn out like the Martell girl._

The King was at the moment accepting gifts from his new associates, fine silks, exquisitely designed weapons and various books on Valyrian magic. Rhaegar had always hungered for information on the magic of Old Valyria, as the Targaryen records had been mostly lost following the Battle of Dragonstone. The Maesters had refused to allow him access to their personal records and of the few houses that offered their knowledge, he was unable to achieve any great results. When the dragons returned, I would have to insure that they were granted possession of all the ancient magical knowledge in the kingdoms, as the lack of it was one of the major reasons for the defeat at the trident.

_Well that and whatever dark magic the Starks and Baratheons were using._

The tattoo on my arm was aching again, as it did at infrequent moments so I was constantly reminded of the promise I made to Benerro. Any price was worth paying if it saw the Targaryens restored to the Iron Throne, even the destruction of the other gods of Westeros. The gods had deserted Rhaegar and the men who fought beside him, what right did they have to demand our worship. Even the Valyrian Pantheon itself had abandoned the Targaryen forces, standing by while the very people who brought them to Westeros were slaughtered!

_All men must die. Why not the gods as well?_

"Lord Connington?" asked a voice. I turned around to seek the source of the voice and saw a pale brown-haired slave girl, who looked as if she might have some Vale blood in her.

"Yes?" I demanded, "What is it?"

"My pardons Ser" said the girl, "My master Nyessos wishes to speak with you." Nyessos Vhassar was the leader of the Elephant party within Volantis and was one of the people most opposed to helping the Targaryens. Doubtless he wished to convince me to advocate a peaceful resolution to the Baratheon-Targaryen conflict to Viserys, despite knowing full well the Usurper's crimes. Despite my distaste for the craven man, I could hardly refuse his summons due to the power he held.

"Lead on then girl" I ordered, finishing off my wine glass. If we had been leaving the palace I would have made a detour to my allotted rooms, so as to grab a sword but I doubted that one of the Old Blood would wish to mingle with the common folk.

The girl led the way through Illyrio's manse, her cheap woollen dress rustling as she walked. The opulence on display was staggering, even for one such as me who had walked through the halls of the Black Keep. The tapestries glittered in the light of the many candles of the palace, with one in particular shining above the rest. It depicted a stormy battlefield, with men wearing all varieties of armour clashing in the mud. At the centre of the fray stood two men, one in demonic stag armour, the other in noble red and black dragon armour. Robert and Rhaegar.

_The Battle of the Trident. The greatest tragedy known to men._

If I had been on the battlefield that day I was sure that Rhaegar would never have fallen. The stag would have been cast down, the wolves would be forced to yield and all would return to the correct and true path.

\----------------

Nyessos Vhassar was standing on a balcony, overlooking the harbour of Pentos. He was dressed in dark purple robes and had styled his white hair into an intricate coiled design. He was leaning on a bannister with his head facing out towards the sea.

"You wished to speak with me?" I said. The man made no reply, not even moving from where he was leaning. "My lord?" Still nothing. "Are you even listening?" I said stepping closer. Perhaps the stupid man had fallen asleep after drinking to much wi...

Nyessos Vhassar was not an ugly man. While he was in his late fifties, he had yet to show much sign of his age and despite his cowardliness was still as active as possible. This made his lack of a face even more disconcerting than it would have been. Where his face should have been was just a large hole, through which I could see the other side of his head through. The innards of the head, the skull and everything it contained had been removed.

_What in the seven hells..._

I heard a knife being unsheathed behind me. I was unarmed but was still doubtless stronger than this girl was. I span around, preparing to wrestle for the knife - and paused. There were three people behind me. One was the servant girl that had led me into this trap, but to my horror she had removed the skin of her face, revealing a grinning black haired man underneath. His head was grotesquely attached to the girl's body. The second man was a lean, grey haired Lorathi, scarred and scowling. And the last man...

The last man was black haired and wearing a leather jerkin embellished with a version of the crest of House Greyjoy, a house that had been apparently wiped out to the last man! He had a cruel, angular face with many scars and odd burns. But the most disturbing of his features were his eyes, one Ironborn grey, the other a horrible glowing blue. All three of them were holding wicked iron knives.

"Thank you for joining us this fine evening, my Lord" said the Greyjoy, "It will make the following days so much easier."

"You may kill me" I stated, staring him down despite the uneasiness I felt from looking in his eyes, "But the Targaryens will never be defeated!" The man laughed, a course cracking sound.

"Oh I don't need you dead my lord" he said, "after all, if your soul passed on then it would create many problems for us. No, I'm afraid I just need to relive your control over yourself, as you are clearly not using it in any useful way." With a gesture, the two other men moved suddenly and forced my arms behind my back.

"I will not betray the King" I said. The man smiled and raised the knife to my chest.

"Oh but my lord" he said, "You don't have a choice in the matter."

The knife plunged in.

 

**Extras 26**

**Letter from Rodrick Harlaw to Brynden Justman**

To Ser Brynden Justman, Knight of the Bloody Gate and Guardian of the Eyrie

On the subject of the attacks on the Vale by pirates.

To the best of my knowledge no Ironborn were involved in the attack on your kingdom and certainly none ordered by myself. I shall of course launch a full investigation into the identity of the culprits but I cannot promise any results.

On the subject of the Vale I can confess that I do not see any of my subjects being attracted to it as a target, both due to the noticeably dangerous coast and the generally well defended state of the smallfolk (due to the mountain clans). It is more likely that any rogue elements would seek to attack the Reach due to the lack of defence and closeness to the islands.

I must suggest therefore that the attacks were likely the result of pirate action, though of course I cannot be sure and will personally check that my people were not involved.

I will endeavour to keep you updated.

Lord Rodrick Harlaw, Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands, Lord of Ten Towers


	27. Jaime I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Single Spark...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 27**

Jaime Lannister

New King's Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms - 29th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
"They know something!" exclaimed Cersei as we retreated into the privacy of her rooms, "They've somehow found out that we were responsible for the little brat's death!" She was pacing in circles, absent of the usual calm she projected from herself.

"They can't know anything" I said, "We left no evidence, no signs that we were responsible. No one saw us!" What I said was true. After laying the boy's cold body down on the floor of the tower I had quickly ordered Cersei to leave before going over the entire room to make sure there were no signs of us. Plus, the Starks didn't find the corpse for days so they could hardly have found anything to prove it was us.

"But somehow they suspect Jaime!" my sister hissed, "You've seen the way Eddard Stark and his little animals look at us. He knows we killed his son and as soon as possible he'll tell Robert and everything will fall apart." She was practically tearing her hair from her head and her eyes were bloodshot with panic.

"Cersei" I said, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Whatever the Starks think they cannot prove. There is nothing to incriminate us except hatred, and hatred fades with time. The only proof are these marks on the back of our hands which have definitely never been seen." Cersei clung to me.

"The Starks don't need evidence you fool" she spat, her nails poking into my neck. "Robert would believe horseshit if it came out of Eddard Stark's mouth!" Enough to murder his wife and children? Granted, Cersei had never had a loving relationship with her husband (in name only) but I doubted he would turn on her so quickly for so little. He hadn't even seen Eddard Stark for over ten years!

_I'll give him this, he's no Aerys._

"Cersei..." I began.

"No Jaime" she said, cutting me off. "We can't hide the truth much longer. Anyone who sees your hands or mine will know what we did. Cassana already suspects the truth!"

_The only child you actually had with Robert._

"I will not let them hurt you Cersei" I said, "You or the children." I'd never really had any affection for them, Cersei always keeping me away to prevent suspicion. Even their apparent father who Cersei hated had more time with the children.

_Shouldn't I know my own seed? Would father be proud of us continuing the Lannister line?_

"Then kill Robert" Cersei replied, "Kill him and frame the Starks."

_What? Become a Kingslayer twice over?_

"Cersei, you have to put aside these plans to gain control of Northos" I said, frantically searching for an excuse. "We don't have anywhere near enough men or power to force them to submit." Cersei sneered.

"Typical" she hissed, "You act all brave and strong, but the moment it becomes time to do your duty you panic. Tell me Jaime, when did you become a craven?"

"I'm not a craven Cersei!" I yelled, "Your plan will see us all on spikes!" She had to see reason.

"And what's the alternative!" she shouted back, "Waiting for the Starks to demand justice? Waiting for Robert to find out? I will not!" She grabbed my face and pulled me into an embrace. "I need you to do Jaime. Brother. We were born together, don't abandon me now. Please." I could feel my resolve slipping away with every second she spent in my arms.

"Isn't there another way?" I asked. If this went wrong, if I failed... "We're standing on a knife edge." Cersei smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Then let's make sure it lands on our side."

\----------------

I dreamt of Steffon Baratheon that night.

In the dream the great hall of the Black Keep glowed with light from the multitude of candles nestled in the dragon skulls hanging from the walls. The eyes and mouths of the skulls glowed red in the candlelight, as if the beasts still lived and breathed despite their lack of a body. The Baratheon stood in chains before the great spectre of the Iron Throne.

"Steffon Baratheon" shouted the grinning demon upon the throne, "You are found guilty of the crime of high treason against the crown! Do you have any last words to state before I declare my judgement?"

"I have no words for you Aerys" replied Steffon, standing defiantly despite the weight of the chains, "And I will not call for trial by combat after the fate you forced upon Brandon Stark." The demon scowled and leaned forward.

"In that case I, Aerys Targaryen" the demon said, "Second of his Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms, Chosen of the Seven proclaim that you shall die. Ser Derrick!" The King's Justice, a short balding man already dressed in his executioners uniform came forward with a large black axe.

"But I shall say this Aerys, son of Jaeherys, Mad King of the Iron Throne!" boomed Steffon;

"Gods of Valyria!  
Old Gods of the Land!  
The Seven Gods and the Drowned God and all others hear this curse!  
When the sun rises from the ocean!  
When the dragons fall from the skies!  
When the sea awakens!  
When the northwind cries in fury!  
Then will your blood be uncursed!  
But until then, every child of your blood shall suffer and perish without end!"

He was shoved to the ground by three Targaryen guards and forced to kneel on the chopping block already prepared. But still he spoke. "This is my curse to you Aerys!" he spat, "You and all others who bear the blood of the dragon!"

The axe came down.

A head rolled away from its body.

And a madman's laughter filled the hall.

\----------------

It would have to be poison.

I hated using a woman's weapon like one of the Dornish but had little choice in the matter. A knife in Robert's back would be far too suspicious and had a high chance of me being caught in the act. If I was caught, the investigation would inevitably lead back to Cersei and that was something I couldn't allow. For the same reason, I couldn't use a painful poison as that might lead to Pyrcelle who everyone in court knew was a sop to my father.

_So despite everything, I'll be forced to give Robert a peaceful death._

It was the last thing the oath deserved after the way he had treated Cersei. He deserved to be tortured slowly in the black cells while my sister watched on with glee. Made to waste away in a pile of his own filth. Or maybe, maybe we should have found a way to kill him on a hunt - have him ripped apart by a stag's antlers!

_Now that would be ironic._

My position as Kingsguard allowed me to get close to the Robert's food and knowing that he rarely used food testers, I took the opportunity to poor a small vial of a Braavosi potion into his drink. The potion, known as 'the gift' killed very quickly and very effectively. All it would take is one nights rest and Robert Baratheon, first of his name - would have joined his beloved Lady Lyanna in death.

_And my son would be crowned King._

 

**Extras 27**

**Extract from 'Histories of the Kings Volume 17: Aerys the Fool' by King's Historian Maegar**

Some people claim that it was the kidnap of Princess Lyanna that started the rebellion against Aerys.

To the more knowledgeable of us however, we know that the true spark of war was forged with the murders at King's Landing.

Highborn and lowborn, Westerosi or foreign - none were spared from Aerys II's mad hunt for treason.

Many important figures were killed in the hunt, the most exceptional of which are included here:

  * Lord Steffon Baratheon: Father of King Robert and Cousin to Aerys, Steffon Baratheon was serving as hand at the time of the hunt. He was recorded as speaking out against the murders and implored Aerys to force his son to return Lyanna. He was refused and executed.
  * Prince Brandon Stark: Heir to Winterfell and Northos, Brother to Eddard and Lyanna Stark, Brandon journeyed south soon after Lyanna's kidnap to demand the return of his sister. He was captured and burnt to death by the sorcerers of Aerys.
  * Elbert Arryn: Heir to the Vale and Jon Arryn, Elbert was in the city as a representative of his homeland at the time of the hunt. While it is unknown how exactly he died, his skin was displayed prominently on the outside of Maegar's holdfast.
  * Tygett Lannister: Brother to Tywin Lannister, Tygett was serving as the Black Keep's Master at Arms at the time of the hunt. He was flogged to death by an unidentified member of the Kingsguard.



With these deaths and the many more that would follow, the war became unavoidable.

Sure enough, the moment word had only just reached the families of those killed when they declared war on the Targaryen kingdom.

On one side the combined forces of the Stormlands, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Westerlands and Northos.

On the other the forces of the Crownlands, the Reach and Dorne.

Koridoran and the Iron Islands chose to remain neutral.


	28. Eddard III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Man who passes the sentence...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 28**

Eddard Stark

New King's Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms - 1st Garthtide 299AC

  
The Iron Throne loomed over the hall like the shadow of some evil god. Some of the blades, the less burnt ones shone in the morning light streaming in from the hall's many windows. But most of the throne stayed dark, blackened and scorched.

_How many lives has this seat taken?_

My brother had died in front of this throne, burnt alive by the madness of King Aerys. He had been dispatched by my father following Rhaegar's abduction of Lyanna; to bargain for her return from the prince's clutches.

_How could we have known that the madness affected his father as well?_

The Targaryens were not the only family with a curse crawling through their veins admittedly, with many of the families including my own having recurring traits that would appear throughout the generations. They were, however the only family that made little to no effort to control themselves and their abilities, at least in the modern era. It was a blessing from the gods then that the dragons had died centuries ago, as otherwise Robert's Rebellion could never have been won and the Targaryens vanquished.

_But was any of it worth it in the end?_

My father still died on the trident. My sister still died in the birthing bed, giving birth to a stillborn son. And Robert sunk himself into a endless pool of grief, uncaring of the title placed upon him. Lannisters now ruled the Seven Kingdoms, regardless of Joffrey's parentage. Doubtless the Old Lion was already planning to have the boy take up his mother's family name to complete his ultimate victory over Aerys.

_The only thing I can do is prevent Northos from falling to the same fate._

Our alliances will never be more valuable than they are now. With the Justmans tied to us via my marriage to Cat, our closest neighbor could be considered an ally. Ideally the Boltons - the Starks ancestral enemy aside from the Wildlings - would have been tied to us through Robyn's marriage to Domeric but Roose had made no secret of the fact that he blamed her for both of his son's deaths. Robyn herself blamed him for the rumours that Cregan was a bastard that she had just passed of as Domeric's, who she proceeded to murder once he started getting suspicious.

_It's perfectly natural for a child to take after their mother._

If the time came when I would have to lead the armies of Northos against the Lannisters to avenge Brandon I would need a secure and stable kingdom at my back. There could be no unwillingness or reluctance, every house of the North would have to stand with us to the end. While the shores of the kingdom would be defended eternally by Frostwing, any internal threat would not. Any weak link in our armies would doubtless be capitalised on by Tywin.

_Northos must remember. The Starks must prepare._

Sighing, I moved towards the group of people stood before the throne, Rodrick padding alongside me. Cersei had attempted to have the direwolf and his children locked up, but I had refused as such an action would be an insult to the animals. Besides which, Adara tended to get skittish when Sansa was out of sight - likely due to the suffering of her prior owner. The group was made up of many types of people. There were the expected courtiers of Robert's court, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their new King. Then there were the members of my people who had already arrived, including Sansa and Arya who were under Jory's protection. And finally there were the other foreigners, a magister from Pentos, a tall summer islander - dressed in vibrant robes and a odd blindfold, a few merchants from the Free Cities and at the back, leaning on a pillar was the Koridan, accompanied by two guards in dark plate armour. Neither King Joffrey or any of his family had arrived yet, nor any of the Kingsguard though I could see members of the city Goldcloaks lurking around the corners of the room.

_For a woman who complains so much, you would think she would arrive on time._

I walked over to Arya and Sansa, who were talking to their grandfather. "Your Grace" he said in greeting, "I apologise if you're upset over how long the new King is taking. His mother is determined to make sure everything is perfect for her son."

"It's quite alright" I replied, "I wouldn't know much about these things, after all I was crowned on a battlefield."

"He's probably polishing his crown" Arya interjected, "Maybe he hopes it will distract from his face."

"Arya!" I scolded, "You shouldn't say such things in our present company." It was best not to say such things here, who knows where everyone's spies were. I doubted I really needed to worry at the moment however, as I could see Hoster was struggling to keep from smiling.

"There'll be here any second Arya" said Sansa, "Don't worry." Arya scowled.

"I'm not worried" she grumbled. If these were our apartments she would have tried to storm off, but due to our current location all she could do was face away from Sansa with her arms crossed.

_Maybe I should have left you both in Winterfell..._

The changes in behaviour that had affected the two of them weren't all bad. Sansa had become far less naive than she once was, picking out exactly why the rest of her family distrusted the southerners and taking the same attitude. Arya had also improved - slightly - in how she behaved in lessons, putting in more effort towards needlework.

_If only this had happened without Brandon's murder._

The sound of footsteps announced the arrival of the Baratheon party. Three members of the Kingsguard led the way in their shining white armour, each one of them carved with the individual runes of each of the Seven. Following his guards came Joffrey, dressed in a fine red doublet and armed with a fine steel sword. His mother and siblings followed him, all dressed in red except Cassana who had stuck to her father's colours.

_Well at least one of them isn't dressed as a lion._

The other members of the Kingsguard followed behind them, looking around cautiously at the people gathered here to watch the boy's crowning. When the boy had reached the foot of the throne he turned and the High Septon - the apparent voice of the Seven on the earth - stepped forward. At his side was an aide bearing a red cushion, upon which sat Robert's former crown, a circlet of gold with inset rubies.

It had indeed been freshly polished.

In a booming voice the High Septon proclaimed "In the Light of the Seven, I pronounce you, Joffrey of House Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord of the Iron Throne." He placed the crown on the boy's forehead and then sunk to one knee before the new king. All the people in the hall except the other kings - namely myself and the lurking Koridan - followed suit as the boy ascended the steps of the tall throne. Once he was seated, the boy with a smug expression gestured for the court to rise.

"Is there any business to be brought before the court" he demanded. Lord Hoster stepped out with a long folded scroll.

"On behalf on the late king, I present the will of Robert Baratheon" Hoster said, "It reads: If I do not live to see my heir, Joffrey Baratheon become of age, I Robert Baratheon, ask my brother Stannis to take the position of regent until he reaches maturity." Stannis Baratheon stepped forwards out of the crowd where he had been standing next to a man with an onion emblazoned on his doublet.

"In the light of the Seven, I Stannis Baratheon accept the regency of my nephew." At least Robert has the sense to appoint a man such as Stannis to the regency. Hopefully he could get rid of some of the Lannister influence that had seeped in with the queen.

Speaking of which, Cersei looks pissed.

The new King didn't look particularly pleased either but managed to hold his tongue. It was definitely a good thing I had avoided betrothing Sansa to him considering the attitude he had shown on the journey by ship. Whining constantly and picking fights were not good qualities for a future king.

_Three more days and we can return home._

Cersei was walking out in front of the throne now, accompanied by the Kingslayer. "My son, I bring grave news before the court" she began, "for I believe that your father, Robert was murdered."

_Murdered?!_

Pyrcelle had told the court that the cause of death was too much drinking! I could see the Maester from here and the man looked shocked at what Cersei was suggesting.

"How do you believe father was murdered,  
Mother?" asked Joffrey.

"Poison" she answered.

"And do you know who committed the crime?" he asked.

Robert had many enemies but how could one have got into King's Landing. For that matter, why kill him now? The Targaryens were in no position to invade and the Dornish and the Greyjoys would have poisoned him ages ago. Who would commit such an act now?

"King Eddard Stark, my son."

_What?_

"What?" I shouted, "what madness is this?" Why would I have killed Robert?

"Your Grace, there must be some mistake" said Hoster, moving forward to confront the queen. "What reason would King Eddard have for murdering King Robert?"

"Who can know the mind of a northern savage?" she demanded. "This man killed the King!" she said pointing squarely at me, "he killed my husband! Take him!"

"Yes" shouted the boy on the throne, "Take him!" I was suddenly intensely aware of all the Goldcloaks and Lannister guards in the room. Many of them had their hands on the hilts of their swords. It was a trap...and we were surrounded.

_Several things happened in the next few moments._

The first was the synchronised drawing of all the blades in the room, even by old men such as Hoster and Paxter Redwyne.

The second was the automatic forming up of my guards around Sansa, Arya and me as well as a group around the throne.

The third was the growling of the three direwolves at each of their owner's sides.

"Jory" I hissed to the man behind me, "Get Arya and Sansa out of the city and back to Northos. Go across country if you must."

"But what about you, your grace?" he whispered, to prevent the formation of Lannister soldiers, Goldcloaks and Kingsguard from overhearing.

"I will stay here to prevent them from following you."

"Your Grace..." began Jory.

"Father!" began Sansa, clutching Arya to her chest.

"Jory swear to me you'll see them safe" I interrupted. We did not have time for arguments. The weight of the Builder's Sword was comforting in my hand.

"... I swear your grace, on my honour." I subtly nodded, my eyes not leaving the Kingsguard formed up in front of the Iron Throne. Hoster and Paxter Redwyne were pleading with Joffrey to see reason, but to no avail.

_And now it begins._

With a primal roar Jaime Lannister sprung forward and the melee began. My guards were surrounded on all sides by enemies and I hoped that a distraction would form for Jory and the girls. The first person to meet my blade was a knight of the Kingsguard who attempted to stab me in the shoulder. I parried and the Valyrian Steel cut a notch into his blade. As we moved through a series of furious, violent slashes I saw Hoster cut down by the Kingslayer and a magister impaled by a Lannister spear. I finally managed to cut the Kingsguard only to be taken up in combat by a bald headed man with jowls, in the uniform of a Goldcloak.

A blast of thunder echoed from behind me, near to the entrance of the hall. I stabbed the Goldcloak in the chest and as he collapsed to the ground spun around to find the source. I could see the Koridans running from the hall, through the gore stilled from three Goldcloaks apparently blasted apart.

"Jory!" I shouted, pointing at the brief opening presented by whatever the Koridans had done. "Go!" I heard Arya screaming as Jory grabbed her under his arm and fled through the gap opened in the Goldcloak ranks.

_Protect them._

Most of the soldiers in the room were dead now, but even with three members of the Kingsguard fallen we were still outnumbered. It was down to me, Rodrick (bleeding from a gash on his side), two of my guards and a Justman guard against ten or more Lannister men.

_"No. Now it ends."_

I met Jaime Lannister's blade in the centre of the hall, barely five feet away from the place where my brother had perished. While I undoubtedly had the better weapon, he was clearly the more talented swordsman. I felt, rather than saw Rodrick get speared through the mouth by Goldcloak.

And I felt, rather than saw Jaime Lannister pierce me through the chest.

_Catelyn. Benjen. Robyn. Sansa. Arya. Rickard. Rhaenys._

_Brandon._

 

**Extras 28**

**Extract from 'Battles of the Great War' by Maester Jonnel of the Northern Citadel**

**Skirmish before the Iron Throne**

Participating Factions:

  * House Baratheon of King's Landing
  *    House Lannister of Castely Rock
  *    The Kingsguard
  *    The Goldcloaks
  * House Stark of Winterfell
  *    House Cassel
  *    House Justman (indirectly)
  *    House Redwyne (indirectly)
  * House Koridan of Deepcore
  *    The Fountainguard



Leaders:

  * King Joffrey Baratheon
  *    Ser Jaime Lannister
  *    Ser Barristan Selmy
  *    Janos Slynt
  * King Eddard Stark
  *    Jory Cassel
  *    Lord Hoster Justman
  *    Lord Paxter Redwyne
  * High Lord Barum Koridan
  *    Unknown



The Battle:

The First Event of the Great War beginning 299AC was a small skirmish in the Black Keep. Officially the skirmish was the result of King Joffrey Baratheon attempting to arrest King Eddard Stark under suspicion of murdering Joffrey's father, King Robert Baratheon. Unofficially, it was an attempt by Queen Dowager Cersei Lannister to remove the biggest perceived threats to her rule and force the kingdoms of Northos and Koridoran to submit to her.

The skirmish began with a surprise attack before the Iron Throne itself where Eddard Stark and his six guards were killed, though with no ease. Three members of the Kingsguard were killed during this part of the skirmish along with Lord Hoster Justman and Lord Paxter Redwyne when they attempted to intervene. The Stark daughters escaped with the aid of their guard Jory Cassel. The Koridan forces (who had apparently been forewarned) fled New King's Landing during this stage with no recorded casualties.

The second stage of the battle was an attack on the remaining foreign forces in the city at their apartments in the Black Keep. This stage went far less successfully for Queen Cersei Lannister as both Stark princesses (her presumed targets) managed to escape. A further member of the Kingsguard was killed by Jory Cassel who fled with the youngest Stark girl. The apartments were eventually conquered by the Baratheon forces however and Stark power in the south was extinguished.

Casualties:

  * Forces of House Baratheon:
  *    Ser Boros Blont
  *    Ser Mandon Moore
  *    Ser Meryn Trant
  *    Ser Arys Oakheart
  *    Janos Slynt
  *    9 Baratheon Guards
  *    17 Goldcloaks
  *    Possibly Lord Petyr Baelish
  * Forces of House Stark:
  *    King Eddard Stark
  *    Rodrick (Direwolf)
  *    20 Stark Guardsmen
  *    1 Bear Warg
  *    Lord Hoster Justman
  *    3 Justman Guardsmen
  *    Lord Paxter Redwyne
  *    King's Historian Maegar
  * Forces of House Koridan:
  *    No Recorded Casualties
  * Others:
  *    Jalabhar Xho
  *    Magister Dengaro
  *    Hamin Rogarre



Result:

  
**Tactical Baratheon Victory.**

  * King Joffrey remains on the Iron Throne.
  * King Eddard Stark and his southern forces are killed.
  *    Robyn Stark becomes Queen of Northos.
  * Hoster Justman is killed.
  *    Edmure Justman becomes Lord Paramount of the Riverlands
  * Paxter Redwyne is killed.
  *    Horos Redwyne becomes Lord of the Arbor
  * Sansa and Arya Stark escape, along with Jory Cassel.
  * House Koridan escapes without casualties.
  * The Small Council Positions of Hand of the King, Master of Ships, Master of Coin and Commander of the Goldcloaks are left empty.
  * The Kingsguard is reduced to three members.




	29. Cersei III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Most (un)popular Woman in the World!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 29**

Cersei Lannister

New King's Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms - 1st Garthtide 299AC

  
"Father, Father!" I cried as I rushed up to him, "Look at my sewing! It's a lion!"

"Well done Cersei" he said, ruffling my golden curls, "It's beautiful, worthy of a queen." My mother approached, one hand on her belly where a slight swell was visible.

"Yes" she said, "She's worked hard on it all day my love."

\----------------

"Why can't I see her?" I demanded, glaring up at the guard blocking the way into my mother's room.

"You're mother isn't well, milady" the Guard answered, "She doesn't wish for you to catch anything."

"I am a Lady of Castely Rock!"

\----------------

"Mother? Mother? Wake up! Wake up!...don't leave me."

\----------------

"He's a insult Jaime" I hissed, "He's not like us!" Jaime annoyingly continued to side with the baby.

"He's our brother sister" he said with a soft grin, "and he's going to grow up to be as big and strong as the rest of us."

\----------------

"I'm taking you to court with me" said my father, staring out the window of his solar. "You will act befitting of the Lannister name." I bowed my head.

"Yes father."

\----------------

"You are a servant Lord Tywin, a good and valuable servant but a servant nonetheless. And dragons do not marry servant's daughters" laughed the King as he sat in the hall of Casterly Rock. My father scowled and I was shocked to realise he would not be fighting my case.

"As you wish, your grace" he replied, before returning to his seat.

_Why are you giving up? You told me I would be queen!_

\----------------

"Elia Martell! They married a Dornish whore to the prince rather than me!"

\----------------

"You will still be a queen" Father said from behind his desk, "If the Targaryens win I will ensure Rhaegar cannot refuse us a second time."

_It was Aerys that refused me, not Rhaegar._

"But what if they lose father" I asked. I had little doubt that Rhaegar would of course be triumphant over the savage Baratheons and Starks, but it was best to check.

"You will marry Robert Baratheon. I highly doubt that Lyanna Stark will be able to marry him even if he does defeat Rhaegar."

\----------------

"And I crown you, Cersei Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!"

\----------------

"Lyanna" mumbled the drunken oaf lying across from me.

_How dare he think of her! Thousands of men would die for my favour and he would rather think of a northern savage?_

Rhaegar would have never betrayed me.

\----------------

The babe's black hair infuriated me, even as I moved the screeching infant to my chest.

_This will be the last child I shall bear you Robert._

\----------------

The room was cold and dark when I awoke. Even with the windows and doors apparently shut, a draft seemed to blow around causing goosebumps along my exposed arms.

_One of the maids has probably left a window open. I'll have her flogged._

My plan, my great plan had failed somehow. Instead of capturing the two kings and forcing them to submit before Joffrey, the soldiers had allowed one of them to escape and then killed the other. The Stark girls had also by the aid of some divine intervention escaped leaving me with no hostages to use against my enemies.

_My plan was perfect!_

All of the soldiers were failures. Even my brother Jaime, so often boasting of his skill had failed to fulfill his duty to his queen. As always, I was the only competent person in King's Landing. Even when given clear instructions they were utterly incompetent. Such is how all men were.

"Do you sleep still?" asked a voice from the darkness. I froze and slowly reached for the knife hidden under my pillow. "Looking for this?" said the voice again. I looked towards the source, attempting to pick out details in the darkness. The person was clearly a man, clothes in black and fingering my dagger between his hands.

"Drop the knife or your punishment will be worse" I threatened. Two guards were outside the door of the room, replacing the members of the Kingsguard until more could be found to fill the gaps made during Eddard Stark's final battle. "If I call for help, guards will swarm this room."

"Your guards are already dead, child" said the voice with a chuckle, "I could hardly leave people to overhear us." With a burst of light, a small flame sprung to life in the person's right hand. It was Barum Koridan, seemingly amused at my threats. The skin on his exposed right arm glowed dark purple with the effort of casting the flame.

"So tell me, your grace" asked Barum smugly, "Did your plan proceed as you expected?"

"If you kill me the wrath of Casterly Rock will rain down upon Koridoran." The man chuckled again.

"If I wanted to kill you Cersei" he said, "You would already be dead." He considered for a second. "Or on a boat back to my island for...punishment." His smile was red in the light of the flame. I had first met the Koridan when I was a little girl, he visiting the Rock to sort out a trade agreement with my father. Despite being in a foreign kingdom, the man seemed utterly unconcerned with appearances and treated my father like an old friend, failing to greet him as the Lord of the Westerlands.

_What can you expect from a filthy heathen?_

"Why are you here?" I asked. If this man was going to attack me, I would go to my death as a lioness, not a mouse.

"Originally, I had actually planned to kill you" he answered, "But after seeing that mark on your hand I don't think I need to bother."

_Shit._

"I wonder what your father would think if he discovered that it was you responsible for little Brandon Stark's death" said Barum, "I doubt he would be pleased."

_He would be furious._

"But enough on that, I think you've angered everyone quite enough without me having to say anything." He stood up, still holding the flame and moved closer to my bed, leering from the darkness. "Since I've decided not to kill you, I feel I have to make a slight warning."

"A warning?" I asked. I wanted his eyes off me, the cold orbs staring too intently at my face.

"Yes" he said, all humour gone. "If you or any of your kin attempt anything like this again, any action towards my family or my people, I will see that you suffer before the end." He chuckled darkly. "I can't kill you Cersei, the gods have already claimed your soul." He leaned in close and whispered "But there are many ways to destroy someone without killing them."

Then he extinguished the light and vanished from the room leaving me alone in the dark.

\----------------

The small council chamber seemed even emptier than usual the following morning. Five people sat around the large circular wooden table, none of them happy. I was taking the Queen's seat (as I should), but to my fury Stannis had taken the King's seat, Joffrey not being bothered to attend the meeting.

_He has no right. I should be in command._

The man cleared his throat. "I bring this meeting to order. Lord Varys, present your report on the results of yesterday's events." Varys sadly looked at Stannis.

"I'm afraid, my Lord Regent that we have taken as much of a blow as our enemies it appears." he simpered. "Four members of the Kingsguard have perished leaving their positions open, as well as the holders of the offices of Hand of the King, Master of Ships, King's Historian and Commander of the Goldcloaks."

_You say that like its a bad thing. Half of them were traitors, the other were incompetents._

"Furthermore" Varys continued, "Renly has apparently abandoned his office as Master of Laws and Baelish has vanished into thin air." Stannis leaned forwards.

"Are there any signs of them, or news as to where they could have traveled to?" he asked.

"Renly was last seen heading off towards the Reach, my lord" Varys answered, "As for Baelish, all I can say is that we haven't found a body."

_Renly has probably just run off to fuck Loras Tyrell. As for Littlefinger, he's probably turned craven and is hiding out in a whorehouse._

"So in summary, most of the council is dead or vanished" muttered Stannis, "Then I ask next, what were you thinking?" He glared at me. "In one day you've turned some of this kingdom's greatest allies against us and undoubtedly plunged us into war."

"My plan was perfect" I replied, glaring back. "It was all the soldiers unable to carry out their orders that failed." And Jaime.

"The attack was beyond foolish!" Stannis shouted, "Even without our casualties you've angered every friend we have!"

"They won't do anything against us" I replied, staring down the second stag, "One of them is controlled by a little girl, one too far away to do anything, the others too weak to even try." I smiled at the idea of it. "Even if they do try anything they will be swiftly crushed." The rest of the council was staring stunned at me.

_Don't your tiny minds understand. I was doing what was necessary for the Seven Kingdoms._

"On the contrary" Stannis ground out, "we couldn't be in a worse position. Northos and Koridoran are too well defended for us to do anything. The riverlords can easily retreat to Northos if attacked and will undoubtedly offered asylum." He began pointing to locations on a map laid out on the table. "The Vale and most likely Dorne will declare for our enemies. The Iron Islands will stay neutral. The Stormlands and the Westerlands will ally with us - Pyrcelle send a letter to Lord Tywin the moment this meeting is finished - and the Reach can be brought in with...promises." He looked up and glared. "The situation may not be apocalyptic but understand this: There's very little you could have done to make your actions worse."

 

**Extras 29:**

**'The Tale of Minam' by Unknown Writer.**

Sing a song of Minam, greatest and first of the Dwarves of Erebos. Father of the thirty and breaker of mountains.

Tell a tale of his journey from the far west, from the shining straits to the fields of Westeros.

Speak of his diamond blade and his silver cloak, speak of his might and wrath.

Call out his wars and his slaying of the goblin king.

Yarn of his companions of old, the great goat Blunt-Tooth and the Rat Whispers.

Whisper of his tomb in the heart of the mountain.

Dream of his coming again and his rise.


	30. Olenna II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Man who would be King (And the idiot who wants to crown him).

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 30**

Olenna Tyrell

Highgarden, Capital of the Reach - 5th Garthtide 299AC

  
The Oaf and Renly Baratheon had been looked inside the solar for hours now, conspiring gods know how many ridiculous schemes and plans. The boy had arrived only this morning, apparently riding directly from King's Landing following his brother's death, accompanied only by Loras. It was obvious what he desired, clear to see by all even without Loras boasting of his Lover's soon to be gained title.

_And doubtless Mace will agree to crown him._

Renly Baratheon only needed to offer to take Maegaery's hand in marriage and Mace would follow him like a dog. No matter what any of us said, even Maegaery herself would be unable to convince him otherwise. He'd always desired to have his blood on the Iron Throne, ruling over the Seven Kingdoms. Aside from the obvious benefits in power, a Tyrell rising to that position would show up the Lords of the Reach who wished to claim the title of Lord Paramount for themselves. The image of  
Margaery being queen, of a crown resting on her brown locks was the fulfilment of that dream.

_It doesn't help that the Lannisters did the exact same thing during Robert's Rebellion._

I remembered that Mace had been furious when he found out that Robert Baratheon would be marrying a Lannister. "Those cowards joined the war at the last minute!" was what he had said. He was ignoring the fact that we were on the opposing side of the war to Robert, but then again it was in his nature to ignore the obvious.

_He should be grateful that we managed to get a marriage into the Baratheons at all._

Stannis Baratheon wouldn't have been anyone's first choice - the man was stern, harsh and utterly obsessed with the law - but Janna had managed to get a...kind marriage out of it even if they weren't particularly loving. Besides which, regardless of what Mace said, if what Maegaery suspects is true (and I have no reason to doubt her), Janna's son Steffon is the next in line to the throne after his father. A Tyrell was already the literal heir to the throne.

_And we didn't even have to do anything..._

A loud bang alerted me to Mace and Renly walking into the private family dining room. Most disturbingly, they both looked extremely satisfied. The men walked up the small table set up for the family's evening dinner, it groaning under the weight of delicacies from all over the Reach. Apples from the Fossoways, wine from the Redwynes and freshly caught fish from Oldtown, transported to Highgarden in one of the Ice-Chariots made in the cities of Northos. Sat around the table was the rest of the Tyrell family - Mace's wife Alerie, his heir Willas, Willas' wife Talla Greatoak, his second son Garlen, Garlen's wife Leonette Fossoway and my only granddaughter Maegaery.

Then Mace opened his mouth and reminded everyone that he was an idiot. "I have wonderful news my family!" he exclaimed, smiling like a buffoon. "Lord Renly, I mean King Renly has agreed to take Maegaery as his wife when he frees the throne from the foul grip of the Lannisters!"

_As I expected..._

"That is brilliant news father" said Maegaery, admirably taking control of the situation. "I have long desired to be wed to a kind and noble man such as his grace." She smiled charmingly at Renly.

"Shall I begin making preparations for a wedding my love?" asked Alerie, "It would be best to have one now rather than waiting, for only the Gods know what could happen in the meantime." I suspected that part of her reasoning for pressing was that she could prevent Loras from interfering in the wedding night, which he would doubtless do if he wasn't prevented.

_He's already managed to undo all my work in one day._

As it happens I was not pleased with Mace, Loras and Renly's plan to stick the latter on the Iron Throne. While I could imagine the sheer nerve of the scheme due to Renly (despite what he may have thought) having absolutely no claim to the throne whatsoever, the fact of the matter is that it was entirely unnecessary. If Stannis Baratheon a man already with a Tyrell bride - launched a campaign for the throne, it would be better to back him as he both already had a Tyrell heir and was furthermore not as lacking when it came to brainpower compared to his brothers. If he did not, then we merely needed to push for a marriage with Joffrey, avoiding a potentially long and costly war. Joffrey could be quietly murdered to move his brother into the position of King, if Maegaery's impression of the boy was correct.

"Yes my love" Mace replied, "I shall summon all the lords of the Reach to Highgarden so they can bear witness to the crowning and marriage. The Stormlords will doubtless also wish to attend the ceremony, so space must be made free for them and their companions."

_It was time to intervene._

"Have you thought this through Mace?" I demanded, "We have the forces of the Reach and Renly has the forces of the Stormlands...or most of them at any rate. Even with that power the Seven Kingdoms will be difficult to conquer and that's assuming the Lannisters don't manage to get Northos on side." Renly laughed.

"I understand your concern my lady, but you do not need to fear" he replied (to a question not even directed at him), "The Lannisters are despised for their conduct and actions since Robert's rebellion. Every one of the great houses will gladly rise against them, if given the opportunity."

_Give me strength._

"And your brother Stannis? I asked.

"Stannis will never betray the man he sees as the rightful ruler" Renly said, "No matter how unsuited that man is for ruling."

"You are right Renly" Loras butted in, "and Stannis is unloved as it is. No one will rise for him, unlike you."

_Alerie, why is your last child the stupidest of them all?_

"Unloved does not mean unrespected" Willas said, "and remember that Stannis has multiple victories under his belt while Renly - no offence meant - has never commanded an army." Garlen nodded. He had squired under Stannis for a while following the latter's marriage to Jana and I knew he respected the man dearly.

"Renly will have the might of the Reach on his side!" Loras said furiously, "and we have enough good commanders that Stannis' achievements mean nothing!" A sudden knock at the door startled everyone. A brown bearded face peaked into the room. It was the Maester of Highgarden, Lionel.

"My lords and ladies" he began, "I'm sorry to interrupt but there's been a Raven from the capital." He held up a brownish scroll to prove his claims.

"Come in Lionel" said Mace jovially, "you don't need to worry about us being annoyed."

_Yes, because unlike you and Renly he might bring some good news._

The Maester scurried up to the table and handed the letter to Mace with a bow. "From King's Landing?" I asked, just to check I hadn't misheard.

"Yes, my lady" said Lionel, looking like he wanted to run from the room and hide in his tower. Meanwhile, Mace was opening the letter and studying it with odd intensity. "Well what does it say?" I asked, seeing that my son was reluctant to pass on the news contained in the scrap of parchment.

"Eddard Stark is...dead" Mace said haltingly, "and Stannis calls on us to raise our armies to defend the kingdom from the inevitable Northos response."

_Well that was unexpected._

  
**Talla, Willas's wife is a member of House Greatoak, an offshoot of House Oakheart that are the lords of Horn Hill due to the extinction of House Tarly. Her first name comes from the TV series.**

 

**Extras 30**

**Extract from 'A History of the Reach' by Historian Garth**

**Garth Greenhand**

The greatest historical figure in the history of the Reach is without doubt Garth Greenhand. Not only is he involved with multiple of our early historical events, but every noble family in the kingdom from the Tyrells to the Fossoways is descended from his and his many children. He is commonly depicted dressed entirely in green, with the Phoenix Hallow on his shoulder.

Despite the many rumours spread by the bards he actually predates Brandon the Builder and the entire Long Night. Garth the Green was actually a member of the first men who crossed over into Westeros, over the former land bridge called the Arm of Dorne. He was the leader of a small tribe called the Highmen, a tribe containing many other house ancestors including men called Florys (House Florent) and Tarl (House Tarly). The tribe crossed through Dorne (at that time only settled by a few tribes around the eastern coast) and apparently due to a vision headed far inland to the banks of the Mander, halfway between the present day locations of Highgarden and Honeyholt. Apparently the visions were from their gods though it is unknown which ones as any gods from that era have faded.

The fort they raised there was given the name Reedbridge, due to the discovery of the Sleeping Reeds that grew on the banks of the Mander. The fort had more in common with a hamlet in the early days due to the lack of enemies the early settlers had. The most striking feature of Reedbridge were the huge fields of corn and wheat that surrounded it, brought into life by the magic of Garth. Greenhand had a completely unseen level of control over plants and greenery, that has never been matched since. According to the bards, the current state of the Reach as the breadbasket of Westeros is due to Greenhand's magic, lingering long after the man himself died.

Greenhand was also highly proficient in the healing arts, especially fertility. The man according to legend had the ability to cure barren women merely by touching them - though this may have been a cover for other activities, as the man is known to have been extremely...active. He had too many children to list here though many of them have their own legends associated with them. However the first of his children and his heir was a man known as Garth 'Gardener', the forefather of the line that would grow to rule the Reach.


	31. Edmure II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who are left behind...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 31**

Edmure Justman

Oldstones, Capital of the Riverlands - 4th Garthtide 299AC

  
_War._

_The only option was war._

The letter had arrived from King's Landing only this morning and already I knew there was no other choice. Though the letter blamed my father's death on 'the savage northmen' I knew enough to suspect that the true events that must have happened before the Iron Throne. My father had been murdered by the Baratheons, cut down along with King Eddard and Paxter Redwyne.

_Is the court filled with madmen?_

The letter spoke of great rewards if the House Justman (and through us the Riverlands) assisted them in defeating 'the Northmen Invasion'. The rewards included a 'good' marriage for my firstborn child, first choice of any loot gained from the conflict and lowered taxes for the castles of the Riverlands. All offers that cost the Baratheon court nothing. Accepting the offer would be madness, even without the murder of my father. Any invasion from Northos would have to go through the Riverlands, our coast lying parallel to theirs. Oldstones, Freyport and Seaguard would be the first targets, enabling the Northmen to safely land of Westerosi soil. If the Vale joined the war, we would face an attack from our eastern border and the Vale was much better defended than we were, even with water-witches.

_They want to use us as fodder, to ruin ourselves causing damage to their enemies so they don't need to bother._

"I know what I have do..." I murmured as I stared out at the sunset over the Riverlands, "But I don't want to bring war to these lands." It was always the smallfolk who suffered most in war, according to my father. Lords and kings could hide in our castles, or flee across the narrow sea with our money. Smallfolk did not have the same options and would fall fowl of raging armies, or mad mages, or furious beasts unleashed to wreck havoc. "So much has been lost already..." Soft footsteps announced my wife's presence on the balcony.

"You've been quiet all evening" Roslin said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "I know the letter has troubled you."

"My duties as a Lord require me to protect my people" I said, "but my duty as a son requires me to avenge my father. I...I just don't know which is more important." Roslin sighed and joined me in gazing upon the rapidly disappearing sun.

"Many wives would tell you to follow your heart" she murmured, "and many more would try to convince you to do you what their father's wanted."

"And what does your father want?" I asked. The 'Late' Lord Walder's ambition was well known. My father's hatred for the man had nearly spurred him to refuse the marriage with Roslin.

"Power" Roslin replied instantly, "Enough power to usurp the Justmans and make himself ruler of the Riverlands. If necessary he'll see both of us dead."

"You're his daughter!" I exclaimed. Roslin snorted.

"As if that matters to him" she said, "In his mind I've betrayed him by supporting you over him." She sighed and rested her head on my shoulder, drawing close to me. "The Riverlands will suffer no matter what you choose. Even if you choose neutrality the opposing armies will meet here to spare their own lands the chaos of war."

"So what do I do then?"

"Fight on your own terms. If the Baratheons want to burn the Riverlands, make them pay for every inch. And Edmure..."

"Yes, Roslin?"

"Come home safely. For our son."

\----------------

The great hall of Oldstones was bathed in light from the many windows, built with Myrish glass brought along the Bite. The pillars were carved with the many plants of the Riverlands, while the stone floor was taken up by a massive engraving of the Trident; the lifeblood of the region. The ruling council of Oldstones was seated around a large circular wooden table, as well as any lords or ladies who lived close enough to Oldstones to be summoned easily. I sat in the Lord's chair on the side of the table facing the far end of the hall, containing the ancient throne of House Justman.

"I call this meeting of the council of Oldstones to order" I announced as I glanced around at the other members, "Does anyone have any urgent news they need to bring up before I move on to the major business?" Most of the council shook their heads.

"I have some news from Freyport, my lord" said Yandel, the Maester for Oldstones. "'Black' Walder Frey has been executed." I heard Roslin stiffen beside me.

"What reason was given for his execution?" I asked. Even Walder Frey wouldn't murder his family members for no reason.

"Breaking guest right, my lord" Yandel replied, "The letter states that he slew Edwyn Frey without just cause while they were both under Guest Right."

_That's two of Frey's great-grandsons that have died from one event..._

"I will prepare a letter expressing my sympathies once this meeting is over. Now if that's all other business?" Seeing no one looking to speak I continued. "My father has been murdered on the orders of Joffrey Baratheon, along with Eddard Stark, Paxter Redwyne and all their men." My proclamation was met with gasps of disbelief from around the table, except from Roslin and Yandel who already knew.

"This must be answered!" shouted Lord Jason Mallister, who had made the short journey from Seaguard, "Hoster must be avenged!"

"He will be" I confirmed, "The Riverlands will go to war, allied to the Stark forces. Once this meeting is over I must ask you to quickly ride back to Seaguard to raise your levies. You will be responsible for the defence of the northern Riverlands, to protect against the Ironborn or any sneak attacks towards our coast. I will send ravens to the southern riverlords to raise their own troops and will meet them myself with the troops raised from around Oldstones. Roslin..."

"Yes, my love?"

"You will rule Oldstones in my absence and deal with the Northmen when they arrive. I'll leave them a letter on my strategy in my solar, as that information cannot be carried by a Raven." I leaned forwards in my chair and glanced at the large map on the table. "As of this moment, we are at war."

_And Westeros will burn because of it._

 

**Extras 31:**

**Extract from 'A History of the Iron Islands' by Historian Garth**

**The War of Iron and Gold**

The 'War of Iron and Gold' or the 'Last War with the Sea' as it is also known is perhaps the best recorded of the wars before Aegon's conquest, excluding the Long Night. While the occasional detail is muddled, most of the information remains well known up to and including the date, 735 BAC. At this time Ironborn territory comprised the islands themselves, small parts of the Westerlands and the western coast of the Reach (excluding the ancient city of Oldtown). The extent of their successes had brought the Ironborn to a level of power previously (and since) unheard of. Three Sea Dragons roamed the western coast of Westeros along with countless Krakens and other dark beasts from the ocean depths. The primordial spirit of the ocean itself (known in Ironborn legend as 'the Salt Wife') was fully awakened and made sea travel near impossible for any non-Ironborn. Ships had to travel close to the coast and even that would not always protect them. The Drowned God received daily sacrifice and had enough power to constantly challenge the other gods of Westeros and Northos.

But even gods can fall.

I'll begin if you'll allow me, with a bit of science. One of the most well-respected hypothesis for the power of the gods is that their power ebbs and flows depending on how much worship they recieve. This has never been proven of course, due to the idea itself being difficult to experiment with, the multiple fanatic groups that would deem such research heretical and the gods themselves being uncomfortable about the subject. The only god who had a different reaction was the Black Goat, who preceded to laugh hysterically before removing the questioner's eyeballs with his tongue. The hypothesis does explain the beginning of the war quite well however.

The first battle of the war was the destruction of a large Ironborn raiding party (led by a Quellon Hoare) and a Sea Dragon by the armies of Northos and the Ice Dragon Frostwing. The victory was hard won, the northern fleet being reduced to a quarter of its size, the heir to Winterfell being killed and Frostwing being very badly wounded. But win they did and with this victory, the power of the Ironborn was weakened for a short time.

It was enough.

For in all the captured lands, the rebels and slaves of the Ironborn reached for their weapons and prepared for a fight worthy of the great halls of the afterlife.

It was time to slay a god.

**To be continued...**


	32. Asha I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Navy, you can sail the Seven Seas!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 32**

Asha Greyjoy

Ten Towers, New Capital of the Iron Islands - 6th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
The servants had laid out the Lizardman's corpse on a table in one of the guest solars. The high-ranking members of my uncle's household were crowded around the body, debating what the assassination attempt meant while Three-Tooth, the elderly steward of Ten Towers poked and prodded at the tattooed lizard's scales.

"I say this was ordered by the Arryns!" shouted Harras, head of one of the Harlaw cadet branches, "They've already proven themselves liars by the faked attacks on their coast and now they're trying to murder us!" His exclamation was met with shouting from the other Ironborn, except my uncle, still sat thinking in a chair and Three-Tooth. "We should take our longboats and raze their shores as vengeance! Let them know how an actual Ironborn would make them suffer!"

"You will not" said Uncle Rodrick, not moving his eyes from Three-Tooth's work on the corpse. Harras' eyes bulged and the other Ironborn fell silent.

"We can't do nothing!" shouted one of the crowd, "the Greenlanders will laugh at us!"

"We won't do nothing" Rodrick replied, finally looking up. "But we will wait until more information has presented itself. Once we have an idea of who was responsible - and no, I doubt that the Arryns were responsible - I shall consider all the options so as to prevent a costly war from consuming these islands. I will not allow us to be drawn back into Balon's legacy." I quietly clenched my hands in my dress.

_What madness can fill a man's heart?_

I was content to let my uncle believe that I couldn't remember my father's mad rebellion against the Greenlanders. And in truth I couldn't remember much of it, my memories of the other Greyjoys fading with every year. But I could remember my poor mother's fading away, her withdrawal from life after the news of the death of my brothers. She passed away barely a year after the death of my father and the loss of Pyke, leaving my uncle as my only living relative and Ten Towers as my only home.

The arguments going on between the members of my father's household were silenced with a single gesture from Three-Tooth. With the odd crackling sound he used to speak, the steward gestured for my uncle to look at the back of the Lizardman's head. My uncle's face contorted in disgust at whatever he saw and gingerly reached for the stick Three-Tooth had been using. I edged around the table to see whatever had caught his attention. At the back of the Lizardman's head the skin had been stretched over a dark stone, embedded into it's spine. My uncle was prising the stone out, using Three-Tooth's stick as a lever. This was proving difficult, due to both the unnatural smoothness of the stone and the awkwardness of how the Lizard's skeleton was arranged.

"What magic is this?" Harras muttered to one of the others, a bald scarred man who I didn't recognise. The man shrugged just as my uncle finally managed to get the stone removed.

"This is a heart stone" Rodrick said, turning the object over in his hands.

_A what?_

"They were used by the Valyrians to channel magical signals over long distances..." He stared at it for a moment. "Asha" he called, gesturing me over to him with his free hand, "Tell me, what does this stone feel like to you?" He passed the stone over to me.

_Odd..._

"It feels...oily" I replied, turning the stone around in my hands, "Like it's been freshly polished." My uncle nodded grimly.

"I believe" he said "that this stone is made from the same rock that comprises the Seastone chair."

_The ancient throne of the Ironborn._

"So this stone is made of Seastone?" asked Harras. Seastone was a material traded from the Merling tribes, found in the depths of the oceans unknown to man. Rodrick shook his head.

"The Seastone Chair - despite its name - was not made of Seastone" he answered, "It was made of a dark stone that would stay greasy no matter how hard you tried to dry it. Just like this stone." He leaned back slightly, as he did when he was thinking deeply. "I've seen the like in a few other places, the base of the old Hightower for instance is made of the same substance. And many of the buildings in Asshai are built of this rock."

"So it's a rare rock" the scarred man said, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"A rare rock only found in locations of extreme magical energy" my uncle stated, "and the back of this creature's neck. No Hawyn, there's something fundamentally wrong about all of this and this stone is at the centre of it." He reclined further in his chair.

"Could the Lannisters have anything to do with this uncle?" I asked, "They're the only house with earth magic of this strength." The Lannisters had inherited their powers over rock from the dwarves, who were other possible contenders for the creation of this stone.

"It is possible..." he allowed.

"Then we should strike at them!" Harras boomed, "The Westerlands are far less defended than the Vale, and nearer to us as well!"

"No Harras!" My uncle stood up and glared at the tall Ironborn. "We will not start another war because of me! We will not plunge the islands into war because of me!"

"We have to answer this insult!" Harras replied, "Rodrick, they tried to murder you!"

_In your sleep no less._

"And we will!" Rodrick replied with a glare, "But on my terms and in such a way that the islands will not suffer! Every time these islands go to war we suffer more than our enemies. The War of Iron and Gold. The War of the Faiths. Balon's rebellion! They all have one thing in common. No matter how much damage we cause to our enemies, no matter how many we kill, no matter how many cities we burn! The islands suffer more." He sat back down and began to rub his forehead. "We can't Harras. We'll send spies and increase my guard, but for the moment we'll have to wait."

_But for how long?_

_And what will happen in the meantime?_

 

**Extras 32:**

**Extract from 'A History of the Iron Islands' by Historian Garth**

**The War of Iron and Gold**

The first of the Ironborn domains to fall were the captured territories in the Westerlands, through the actions of a Loren Lannister. The way he achieved this victory over the Ironborn was truly ingenious and earned him the epithet 'the cunning". Under the cover of night, the forces of the Lannisters and the allied Dwarven nations built tunnels under and into the Ironborn controlled castles of the Banefort, the Crag and Faircastle. Faced with an attack from within their own walls, the Ironborn were forced to yield or die. The last castle to fall was Faircastle, mainly because due to a small error the tunnel came up on the wrong part of the island.

The major effect of this was of course the removal of the Iron Islanders from Lannister territory. However there was no end of side effects. The first was a capture of a substantial section of the Iron Fleet that had been moored at Fair Isle. While the loot was not exceptional (aside from the capture of one of the three surviving Sea Dragon Horns) the loss of the fleet -combined with the earlier Northos victory - reduced the Iron Fleet to half its pre-war size. This victory also saw the establishment of complete Lannister control over the Westerlands with the death of the last Westerling Kings. It also began the close relationship between the Rulers of Casterly Rock and the Kings under the earth.

The removal of the Ironborn from the Reach was a far slower process. This was due both to the lack of powerful magic available to the Reach lords (a result of some practices of the early Andals) and the Ironborn determination to not loose anymore territory. Therefore while Bandallon, Blackcrown and Old Oak fell in a short-enough time, the Shield Islands and the Arbor remained in Iron Islander hands. And now it was time for the Sea Dragons to enter the war.

The first target for the enraged Ironborn forces were the Westerlands and they had a special castle in mind.

The ancient Dwarven city of Erebos.

In a dark parody of the ancient Dwarven legends of travelling over the sea, the dragon plunged from the depths onto the coast facing areas of the city. And the dwarves had no way to defend themselves from such power. No matter how many arrows, no matter how many catapults they used the Sea Dragon remained alive - and angry. The ancient spears and pickaxes of the dwarves proved useless against such might.

That is not to say that the dwarves suffered a complete loss however. The Sea Dragon, despite its might was unable to cause any damage to the below ground areas of the city and much of the population did have time to evacuate. While the dwarves were bloodied, they were not broken. And the Sea Dragon withdrew and headed south to the Reach.

This would likely be the best place to bring up the question of the other Sea Dragon that was active at that time. While two of the three played important roles in the War of Iron and Gold, the third vanished partway through the conflict with no apparent reason. Some Maesters have suggested that this may have been due to the Lannister capture of one of the dragon horns, but the writings of the Ironborn themselves refute this suggestion for reasons unclear.

Regardless, the next battle of the war came with the capture of the Arbor by a Randyll Redwyne (founder of the modern House Redwyne) through the art of deception, disguising his own troops as Ironborn on captured longboats. The deception succeeded and the Ironborn territories were reduced to the Shield Islands. A territory that the Reach could not afford to not have control over.

The Battle of the Shield Islands, also known as the Battle of the Bloody Sea was oddly even on both sides. On one hand, the Ironborn had slightly more than half of the remaining Iron Fleet (the rest having been taken to defend the Islands themselves), control of the islands and one Sea Dragon. The Reach had a massive land army, a noteworthy naval presence, easy access to the Islands themselves and were initially placed where the Sea Dragon could not get to them. And it was enough.

At dawn (perhaps hoping to catch the Ironborn asleep) part of the army rowed across the small lagoon to Oakenshield, Greenshield and Southshield. And then more of the army. And then even more. The Ironborn were to for lack of a better phrase, drowned in men while the Sea Dragon and the forces on Greyshield could only look on with horror.

Once again, it was not too easy a victory. The Ironborn, driven mad with fury over the insult of losing everything in so short a time threw everything at their opponents. Countless Reachmen died on the shores or before the small keeps on the islands. And when the time came to take Greyshield the Sea Dragon would make its presence known.

Though in a way no one expected.

Unbenownest to any of the forces in this war (except maybe the gods themselves) the Salt Wife, primordial spirit of the oceans had suffered immensely at the sudden loss of so many of her subjects. Two of the prior stages in this war had caused severe drops in her power, namely the first Sea Dragon death and the Lannister reclaimant of their territories. And the Battle of the Shield Islands would be the last straw.

With a sudden screech of magical energy, the Salt Wife fell into an endless rest. Across the world, magical instruments exploded, earthquakes rumbled and those sensitive to magic cried out. The Sea Dragon was one of these. Unleashing a roar that would drive many of those closest to deafness, the Sea Dragon thrashed and died.

Taking Greyshield and all those on the island with it.


	33. Robyn III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we sound the Drums of WAR!!!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 33**

Robyn Stark

The City of Winterfell, Capital of Northos - 7th Garthtide 299AC

  
_"Starks do not do well in the South."_

My father was dead, killed by the Lannisters while attempting to seek justice for Brandon's murder. Arya and Sansa were lost in the Crownlands, cut off from any allies. The Lannister purging of the court had been utterly unexpected, none of us believing that even the bitch queen would be able to commit such an atrocity.

_And we all suffered for it..._

The letter from King's Landing sat on the table in my father's solar. It attempted to frame my father as the villain, accusing him of murdering King Robert with poison in an attempt to gain power in the 'civilised south'. But the Lannister lies were obvious and I was not a fool.

_My father was not a murderer! You were the ones to break Guest Right!_

War. The only option was war. I would lead the armies of Northos to King's Landing to avenge my father and find my sisters. The Lannister madness meant they couldn't possibly resist, not when the Vale and the Riverlands would join with us. We might not even have to fight a battle of the court continues to act this stupid - the city will probably have rioted and cast them down by the time we arrive.

"Avenge us..." said the voice of Brandon, "Make them pay for their crimes."

"I will" I replied. Revenge was the reason I was sat in the solar, waiting for my father's council to arrive so we could begin the preparation for war. They already knew the content of the letter from when Luwin had frantically rushed into the evening meal, bringing a horrible end to what had been a good day until then.

_Father is dead and I am a queen._

A knocking at the door brought me out of the daze.

"Come in" I called, setting my expression into a 'Lord Face' as Brandon had called it. The door opened to reveal Robin Flint, heir to Flint Isle and acting Justice Advisor to the ruler of Northos (in place of his mother, Lady Lyarra). Robin had been one of the suitors for my hand and I knew that my father had seriously considered him, only eventually settling on Domeric as an attempt to repair the antagonistic relationship between the Starks and the Boltons.

_Though that failed due to my goodfather's stupidity._

Roose Bolton had been the Justice Advisor for most of my father's reign, a position he had used to present Domeric as a potential husband. That is, until the execution of his bastard, at which point he had packed his bags and returned to the Dreadfort to stew in anger. The man was a fool, focusing on blaming me rather than accepting his bastards guilt.

"Hello Robin" I said, once again forcing my mind to focus on the task at hand. "Please take a seat."

"Thank you, your Grace" he replied, smiling and taking a seat. He had set down his sword on a table in a corner, next to where I had laid my knife.

_You used to use my name..._

"Have you put any thought into strategies?" he asked, making a small gesture towards the map laid out on the middle of the table. The map showed the whole of Northos and Westeros, with figurines set out to represent armies that we knew of.

"I plan to land our main army in three sections to avoid putting strain on supplies, at Oldstones, Freyport and Seaguard - or as near as possible. If those cities join us - as I suspect they will - we'll have three ports which we can use to move around easily." I stared intently at the token for the Freys, who I knew where antagonistic towards my mother's family. "If they don't join us, we'll have to take the cities by force."

"That won't endear us to the Riverlands" Robin stated, "If possible we should try to negotiate before resorting to violence." I nodded.

"Agreed" I said, "But if someone tries to impede our progress we cannot afford to be merciful. Rescuing my sisters and avenging my father is the first priority." To prove my point I summoned a small lion made of ice in one hand - before crushing it with the other.

**I am Winter. You all will pay.**

\----------------

The solar quickly filled up with the other members of my father's - and now my own council. There was the principal advisor (akin to Hand of the King) Gregor Forrester, my father's cousin and an old ally from Robert's Rebellion. Then there was Rickard Goldstark, the financial advisor who despite the name and title had nothing to do with the Lannisters. The council was completed by Robin and Luwin, acting in his position as Grand Maester.

"You've all seen the strategy I've prepared" I said, glancing from one face to another, "Does anyone have any issues with it?"

"Would it be possible to negotiate for peace?" asked Rickard, "Perhaps Stannis would be willing to hand over the Kingslayer at least." Gregor shook his head.

"The Queen would never allow it" he replied, "If Stannis attempted that he'd be dead before the day is out. Besides which, if he wants to keep Tywin happy he'll have to keep both of his children alive."

_After what his kids have done, he should be happy for that I'll let them die quickly._

"I wanted to ask about one of our targeted locations" Robin said, "Why have we included the Golden Tooth in our plans?"

"The Golden Tooth is the geographical entrance to the greater Westerlands" I replied, "Controlling it will prevent the Lannisters from being able to attack our troops in the Riverlands." As Robin said, it was vital that my uncle's lands did not suffer because of my war.

"Furthermore" Luwin contributed, "the fortress will act as a perfect block for any Dwarven allies the Lannisters gain. The mines beneath the castle are confirmed to hold a Knocker, so they won't mine anywhere near the place."

"Sorry, what's a knocker?" Robin asked.

"Knockers are creatures of the deep earth that take the form of starved corpses" Luwin replied, "They are feared among the Dwarven race for their habit of cursing those who anger them as well as the fact that no one has recorded killing one." He hands clenched one of the links on his Maesters chain. "One of them is recorded to have killed the first king of the dwarves, Minam the Sailor." Luwin had explained all this to me before hand, but hearing of the knockers still sent a chill up my spine.

"Can't blame the midgets" muttered Rickard, "My mother used stories of those things to make sure I behaved myself."

"They were being told with fear when I was young" said a voice from behind me. The council whirled around to face the voice; Rickard and Robin going towards their weapons, I preparing a blast of Ice Magic. Only to pause at the sight of a large white raven sat on the open windowsill (which had definitely not been open before).

_The White Raven._

"Sorry for startling you" said the Raven, "If possible we wouldn't have interrupted your meeting."

...How can a Raven talk?

"Please focus on the important" the Raven said, letting out a sigh. "The Wolf Lord needs to speak with you, your Grace." The Raven pretended to bow.

_We cannot deny the Gods._

"Are the Gods with us?" asked Gregor, staring in unabashed awe at the Raven.

"The Lannisters have broken Guest Right twice" the Raven said in a far more serious tone, "The Old Gods are most certainly with your cause."

\----------------

I remembered the original meeting I had with the Wolf Lord, back when I was ten. Back then I was just a little girl, hiding behind Jo and my parents.

_"Three deaths for you..."_

I was scared when I was approached by the great one-eyed Direwolf, filled with a terror that I couldn't explain. It wasn't fear of direwolves, I had grown up around the animals. I felt as if the animal was...studying me for whatever reason, forcing my face into it's memory.

I felt the same feeling now as I walked into the Godswood. The tall wierwoods towered above me, their red leaves swaying in a slight breeze. Sticks crunched underneath my feet as I moved towards the centre clearing, where I assumed the Wolf Lord would be waiting.

 **"Be on your guard little one"** said the Voice, **"This one always lies."**

"Your trickery will not work here" I replied, "This is not your domain." The Voice had been silent since my...sleepwalking two weeks ago, due to what I assume was anger over its failure to make me release the Ice.

Thank the gods mother followed me.

The brief period of peace I had was unfortunately spoiled by mother's new found worry over my mental state. She had convinced herself that I was hearing Domeric's voice to try and deny his death. That I was still deep in a widow's depression.

_I know Domeric is dead...I do know._

It was just as well I had avoided telling her about Brandon as I didn't want to imagine her reaction to that news. I could see the heart tree of Winterfell just a short distance ahead, shining in the light from the canopy of the forest. But no one was waiting by it. The clearing was completely empty. A cold wind blew through the wood, accompanied by a scatter of snow.

"Hello?" I called. My voice seemed to echo in the silent wood.

_Is this some kind of trick..._

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden increase in the amount of falling snow. The blizzard swirled around me and despite my other heritage, I was unable to see through it. This was no ordinary snowstorm. The oddest thing though was that while the snow swirled around me at furious speeds, not a single flake landed on me. The storm swirled around and around, shining white and blue and green. And then as suddenly as it had come, the storm vanished. The Godswood had vanished, leaving me standing on the edge of a massive glacier. Here and there, massive cracks showed through the snow leading perhaps to huge underground grottoes. Perched on a small bolder up ahead was the Wolf Lord and the direwolf One-Eye. A caw from overhead announced the arrival of the White Raven, who flew to perch on the back of the latter.

"I had hoped this meeting would come at a later date" said the Wolf Lord, staring out onto the greater part of the glacier. "To lose a loved one is a terrible thing."

 **"Half-Truths and Lies!"** spat the voice. All three of the figures sat up and turned to look at me, the direwolf growling deep in its throat.

"I didn't see you there Voice" said the Old God, smirking with lips pulled back. "It's been a while."

 **"Did you miss me Brandon?"** replied the Voice, **"I have certainly waited to see you again."** The Wolf Lord's name was Brandon?

"Not really" replied 'Brandon', "But I don't have time to deal with you now." Without warning he raised a hand and flung a ball of green energy straight at me. I was too shocked to move in time. To my surprise though, the ball went straight through me without causing any harm. The Voice however was ripped away from my mind, swirling away as a shrouded and screeching blue spirit. "Primordials" the Wolf Lord muttered, shaking his head, "Assholes the lot of them."

"Is it..." I didn't dare to hope. "Is she gone?" The Wolf Lord regretfully shook his head.

"Only for this meeting" he replied, "I'm afraid that once we are finished she will return to your mind." He looked over at me sadly. "Will you sit?" I walked over to the boulder and pulled myself up next to him.

"Why did you call for me?" I asked, "Most people only get one visit from the gods in their lifetimes, unless they're doing something stupid."

_Like breaking guest right._

"I always speak to the ruler of Northos when they come to the throne" he replied, "I did it for your father and now, it has become time for me to talk to you again." Father's rarely talks about the rebellion, even to me and Jo. "Do you remember our last meeting?"

"I do."

_How could I forget..._

"Good" he said, "We talked about many things, your past and...your future. Three Deaths, one already done."

"So I did die when Cregan..."

_"Don't leave me, Don't leave me!"_

"Yes" he replied, "I...intervened on your behalf to make sure you didn't stay dead. I'm not meant to do that sort of thing."

"But you're a god. How can you not be allowed to do something?" I asked. Gods know what the Voice would do if she had the power of the Old Gods.

"Even Gods can have rules young one" the Wolf Lord replied, "But regardless, getting to the point - you plan to lead a war against the Lannisters."

"Do you disapprove?" I asked. He laughed.

"On the contrary, I couldn't agree more. They have broken guest right and the Old Gods do not forgive" he stated, "But the south is very dangerous for Starks as I told your father."

_I've never left Northos before._

"You will need courage" he said, "and more...what do you see when you look at this glacier?" I focused on it anew but couldn't see any change.

"I don't see anything odd about it." I replied.

"And underneath?" At his request I reached out with my powers to try and sense below the surface. Miles and miles of ice and snow and...

"Dragons..." Hundreds of them, buried under miles of ice.

"This was the site of an ancient battle." the Wolf Lord said, "Those dragons were the combatants." A sad smile. "Perhaps they will soon fight again."

\----------------

"For what it's worth...I am sorry for your losses."

 

**Extras 33:**

**The Royal Court of Robyn of House Stark**

Queen on the Frozen Throne: Robyn of House Stark, Queen of Winter, Lady of Winterfell, Chosen of the Wolf Lord  
Heir to the Winter Throne: Cregan of House Stark, Prince of Laketown

Council of Northos:  
Regent: Catelyn Stark (nee Justman)  
Principal Advisor: Gregor Forrester  
Finances Advisor: Rickard Goldstark  
Justice Advisor: Robin Flint  
Grand Maester: Luwin

Castle of Winterfell:  
Steward: Varyon Poole  
Head of the Guard: Rodrick Cassel

Wardens:  
Warden to the Wall: Jon Umber  
Warden of the Western Ocean: Maege Mormont  
Warden of the Eastern Ocean: Wyman Manderly  
Warden of the Bite: Howland Reed


	34. Sansa I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what is this that I can't see, With ice cold hands takin' hold of me?

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 34**

Sansa Stark

The Summer Sea, south of Dorne - 11th Garthtide 299AC

  
I lay shrouded in blackness, my mind drifting in and out of sleep. Little lights swam at the edges of my sight but all too soon vanished into further darkness. And in the shadows, voices spoke. Fragments of conversations.

"It was a nasty knock to her head" said a deep man's voice.

"A concussion my lord" another one replied, "I don't doubt she'll recover shortly.

"It was just as well we managed to escape easily" said another.

"Our spies found out the Queen's plan the night before" replied the first.

"The lizard failed" the third commented.

"Damn him" said the first, "months of planning wasted."

"We have passed Sunspear" announced the second.

"Good. It's been too long since I was home" said the first.

\----------------

"Father!" Arya screamed as Jory dragged us along the corridor, "We have to go back for father!" Jory continued to run, following the path the Koridans had cleaved out of the great hall.

"Your father has ordered me to see you safe princesses" he replied, gasping for breath. "I cannot betray his final wishes." Behind us I could hear the sound of pursuers, though I couldn't tell whether they were friendly or enemy.

_How could they be? Father was surrounded._

Arya was sobbing now, bawling fat tears of grief. "We can't leave him! We can't...leave...him..." I was crying too now, knowing that our father was dead for how could he have survived that treachery. I could even see Jory had tears in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. Our direwolves ran right behind us, seeming almost as panicked as we were.

"There they are!" shouted a man's voice from behind us. I stole a quick glance and saw one of the Kingsguard leading a squad of Goldcloacks after us. "Stop them!"

"Run princess!" Jory cried, Arya still being carried under his arm. Up ahead I could see the Koridans had been forced to stop, surrounded on three sides by spearman. The leader - Barim, Barney? - glanced back at our group as we arrived and motioned for his two guards to ignore us and instead focus on the spearmen. Then the Kingsguard's group arrived, just behind us and finished the encirclement.

"Surrender and your lives will be spared" the Kingsguard said, "On my honour, no harm will come to any of you." No one made a response to lay down their weapons, though Jory pushed me and Arya behind him to draw his sword. I gripped the handle of the knife I had retrieved from my dress during our escape.

"It's not your honour I'm worried about Ser" replied the Koridan Lord, who was curiously examining the ceiling, "I worry about your queen's."

"Do not speak of the Queen is such a way!" shouted one of the Spearmen.

"I'll speak of her however I want" the Koridan said, "Or her cunt of a son." He chuckled. "Out of a sense of fairness however, I will offer you the chance to surrender instead. On my honour."

_Why would they surrender?_

"You are surrounded my lord" the Kingsguard said, "Now is not the time for you to make jokes."

"Most of my family would consider it the best time" he replied, "They do act as excellent distractions." A loud growl echoed from the head of the corridor. "Sweetums!" he said, pointing straight at the spearman directly in front of him, "Feast!"

The spearman, who had began turning around at the sound of the growl was bowled over as a giant beast smashed him off his feet. The beast roared before springing at two more guardsmen. Meanwhile the two Koridan guards had engaged another enemy each, who were suffering from being forced into close combat while holding spears.

"Stay behind me!" Jory shouted, before engaging the Kingsguard in a duel. I pulled Arya close to me and brandished the knife.

_I'll protect you._

I could dimly see that the number of enemies were dropping quickly, too many having been caught off guard by the arrival of the beast. A shout of pain brought my attention back to Jory though, bleeding from a cut on his arm. The Kingsguard had gained the upper hand, his enchanted armour protecting him from all of Jory's stabs. And when Jory stumbled, he quickly swung his sword at our guard's exposed neck. Only to cry out as I jabbed my dagger with desperation into his shoulder. The Kingsguard's distraction gave Jory the moment he needed to deal with his opponent, quickly stabbing his sword through the man's exposed neck. My dagger was covered in blood, dripping onto my hands and clothes. Red and wet and warm...

_Oh Gods...Focus, Sansa focus!_

Glancing around again, I could see that all our enemies were dead or dying with the Koridans triumphant. One of the guards had taken a cut to his arm however and all their weapons were sticky with blood. The Lord - now riding the beast signalled for his men to follow him, before the creature bounded away down the corridor.

"Come on princesses" Jory said, arm pressed to the wound in his arm.

"But you're hurt" Arya asked, "shouldn't we rest?" Jory shook his head.

"We don't have time to rest" Jory replied, "More guards will be here any moment." He knelt down to rip of part of the Kingsguard's cape, which he tied around his bleeding arm. "I'll be fine but you'll have to walk yourself now."

We set off down the corridor again, slowly but ready to run if we heard someone catching up to us. Arya was clinging to my side as Jory's usable arm held his sword. "How are we going to get out of the city?" I asked, "The Queen will already have blocked the main entrances."

"We'll use one of the secret passages" Jory replied, "Your father still had a copy of the castle map left over from the third Icefyre rebellion, that we looked over before we journeyed south." He peered at a wall holding a large tapestry of some Children of the Forest. I had never seen one of the Children but I knew that they still lived deep in the forests of Northos, preferring their own company to that of men.

_A bit like the Giants near Last Hearth really._

"If I remember correctly, this tapestry was used to mark one of them" Jory said, "Look for any loose bricks." Arya and me began to push at various parts of the wall.

"Found it!" Arya said, pushing on a large red brick which activated a mechanism creating a large dark hole in the wall. I could see steps descending into the darkness. I grabbed a torch from the bracket next to tapestry and because of Jory's injury, led the way myself. Once we were all through, Arya pushed on a brick jutting out this side of the hole and sealed the entrance behind us. We descended into the darkness.

\----------------

We had been only travelling for a few hundred metres before I began to hear echoes in the darkness around us. Or at least I imagined I could hear echoes, for in reality the shadows seemed to absorb all the sound I should have been hearing. The floor was wet under our feet causing issues for Arya and me due to the fancy shoes we were wearing. The light of the torches picked out the walls of the underground corridor and the numerous exits leading to gods' know where.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

"Sssshhh..." Jory whispered, gesturing for us to stop moving. Arya and I pulled close, moving to stand either side of him, abreast in the corridor. In the silence I could definitely hear faint noises. A pattering of feet. A splash of water. A low hiss of air.

Arya was squinting. "There's something down the-" A large pale figure reared out of the darkness, hissing wildly with claws outstretched. Jory lunged forward and caught the beast in the chest with his blade. The creature screached and collapsed to the ground gasping before a second strike took off its head.

"What is that?" I asked. In the light of the torch I could see that the figure had webbed hands.

"A Squisher, princess" Jory replied, before grabbing my shoulder and pushing me down the corridor. More sounds were echoing now, more Squishers having called to the meal. "Run!" We ran down the corridor, the light of the torch going wild in my panic.

"Left!" Arya yelled running ahead of the two of us, "There are steps up!" Jory and I raced towards the sound - and something grabbed hold of my ankle.

"Ahhhh!" I screamed as I fell down and a Squisher pounced on top of me. It takes it claws across my face as I desperately reached for my dagger and stabbed the beast in the side.

_Die! Die!_

The beast roared and grabbed me by the neck, trying to strangle me. My vision blurred and I started furiously gasping, the creature squeezing all the air from my lungs.

_Father..._

With one last scream I forced the dagger into the Squisher's chest, where I prayed its heart would be. Thankfully the creature went limp and I forced it off me, pulling myself and my sodden, torn dress up of the damp ground. I dimly noticed I had lost a shoe. I set off, limping in the direction Arya and Jory had journeyed in, too scared to call out for them. On the right side of the corridor I came across an old ladder, which I climbed upwards on, away from this dank lair.

At the top of the ladder was an entrance to a second corridor, dimly lit from a distant entrance. I hobbled along, keeping an eye out for my sister of our guard.

It was then I was knocked unconscious.

 

**Extras 34:**

**Extract from "Animals of the Crownlands' by Maester Lionel**

**Squishers**

Squishers are one of the rarest creatures in modern day Westeros. This isn't because of any issue with the animals themselves, but is rather a result of human hunting of the animals.

The reason for this hunting is because of a Squishers preferred diet. While they will usually go after fish or seals, whenever the opportunity presents itself they will go over humans, especially babies. As such in certain areas, killing one is considered a sign of maturity.

From a distance, the Squishers appear to be normal men. However close examination will reveal bulbous heads, scaled skin, webbed hands and feet and needle-like teeth. They primarily kill with their long claws - in place of nails - but have been recorded as using simple weapons.

They are incredibly fast in water and can run with a sloping gait on land. However, they cannot travel to far away from water and fear fire immensely. This fear extends to those connected to fire such as dragons and even Targaryens.

The current squisher population is limited to areas around Crackclaw point, though there are rumours of them in other places.


	35. Daenerys II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incest isn't cool kids (Even if you are a Targaryen).

> **A High Fantasy Planetos Part 35**

Daenerys Targaryen

The City of Pentos, Western Essos - 6th Garthtide 299AC

  
My body ached everywhere as I laid on the sheets in the bedchamber that I now shared with Viserys.

_"Spread yourself for me sister! You do not want to awaken the Dragon!"_

The past few weeks had seemed to last for months, filled with endless feasts and painful nights. My brother was determined to gain a heir, convinced that having one would ensure that many houses in Westeros would defect to us when we finally invaded.

_"In the sight of the gods, I pronounce you man and wife."_

I was so tired, so very tired but even more than that bored. What little freedom I had once had was stripped away after the marriage, officially for my protection. In reality I suspected my brother wanted to keep me confined until I was finally with child. Of course, he would prefer a son - named after Rhaegar or our father - but until the baby was born there was no easy way to tell which gender it was.

_I hope I conceive soon._

To pass the time I had started reading the books given as gifts at the wedding. Viserys had little interest in most of them, only really taking a second glance at the ones on strategy or warfare. That left we many books on history though, including treasures such as 'Seven Wonders' by Lomas Longstrider and the complete 'Histories of the Seven Kingdoms' by Historian Garth. The books contained valuable information about mine and my brother's birthright and even if some of them were clearly written to please the usurper (with mentions of Aerys the Mad), they all contained fragments of truth.

_I must know the kingdom I am to rule._

Illyrio was pleased by my increased knowledge as he said "a queen's role is to advice her husband. Never to defy him, but always to be there to offer support." I had sworn to be a good queen and wife to Viserys, after all my brother had risked everything to protect me - how could I defy him.

_I will give him beautiful silver-haired babes._

With a sudden crash, Viserys slammed the door to our bedchamber open. "I have wonderful news sister!" He exclaimed, "Wonderful news from King's Landing!" I pulled myself up into a sitting position, ignoring the pain in my back.

"What news do you have, your grace?" I asked.

_I wasn't aware we were planning to invade yet..._

"The Usurper and his Northern Dog are dead!" he answered, grinning wildly. "One was killed by poison and the other was cut apart before the Iron Throne itself!"

_So the Usurper was dead..._

I knew very little about the man behind the deaths of my family, besides what Viserys had told me and what little truth I had picked out from books. I knew that he was a monster of a man - tall, black-haired and terrifying - from the Stormlands who wielded a black skysteel warhammer. I knew that he was personally responsible for the death of my oldest brother Rhaegar, slain upon the trident after being crushed by a warhammer and struck with magical lightning. I knew even less about Eddard Stark, only that he had ridden south after the trial and execution of his brother to attempt to take vengeance.

_They were enemies of our house. One was a traitor and the other a would-be invader._

"That's glorious news, your grace" I said, "Do you plan on pressing your claim to the throne soon then?"

"His grace does" replied Jon Connington who I hadn't noticed arriving in the bedchamber.

"I do indeed sister and what's more my council agrees with me!" said Viserys, "Tomorrow we will begin the travel south to Volantis and there we will gather the fleet to take back what is ours!"

"The world shall burn under your feet, your grace" said Connington, smiling with odd pleasure.

_That man...something about him just unnerves me._

Maybe it was the odd look of his eyes, reminding me of a corpse. The odd thing was, I couldn't remember Connington's eyes looking like that until after the arrival of the Old Blood, most of whom had already started journeying back to Volantis.

_Maybe he didn't like being reminded of being a slave._

Viserys and Jon Connington had continued talking without my input. "Once your fleet is prepared, your grace you should seek allies in Westeros" Jon said, "Many houses long for the death of the usurper and will gladly rise for you when you return."

"Do you have any suggestions?" My brother asked.

"Dorne will rise for you, as will many loyalists in the Crownlands and the Riverlands. Further houses can be reached out to, the Florents and the Freys for instance. And of course there is the one kingdom that has already rebelled once against Robert Baratheon, your grace."

"Who?" Viserys asked.

"The Ironborn."  
\----------------

I slept fitfully that night, my mind dreaming of the days to come.

"Remember" said a low, dark voice, "Remember who you are!" I was standing on a dark precipice overlooking a burning city. Molten rock poured down the mountainsides surrounding the city, casting down towers and forts as if they were trees. A shadowed being rested in front of me, shifting between many forms. First a dragon, then a man, then a wolf and a thousand other shapes.

"Remember the past and all before, or fall and crumble for eternal more."

In the distance a dragon roared.

 

**Extras 35:**

**Extract from 'A History of Valyria' by Kinvara, Priestess of Rhillor**

**The Doom of Valyria**

Many legends have been spoken of the fall of the once prosperous nation of Valyria. Among them are the legends of Daenys the Dreamer, Aurion the Foolish and the travels of the true Lightbringer, sword of Azor Ahai (may all false gods tremble at his name).

May legends have also been spoken of the cause of the Doom, including the collapse of the Fourteen Flames, the curse of Garin the Great, the treachery of the Targaryens and the revenge of Yi-Ti. To the world outside these temple walls, nothing is known of the true events of that fateful year.

As known to all but the weakest acolytes to our faith, the Valyrians had slaved themselves to the many false gods of the Valyrian Pantheon. To please these demons they would perform many fowl acts, a disturbing number of which were cruel parodies of our own religious ceremonies. Some of these ceremonies even involved the burning of priests of Rhillor, sacrificed to the flames in an act designed to mock not just us, but the one true God as well.

But our God took his revenge. On his command, spurred by a divine vision a small group of our priests snuck into the city of Valyria and while the dragons slept, slit the throats of the sorcerers controlling the fires of the Fourteen Flames. Without their controlling influence the volcanoes boiled and burst, plunging the entire area into the abyss and releasing the fury of our God. None of the Children of Valyria were spared from the lava and the earthquakes and the ocean that followed, bringing an end to those who denied our truth.

It is with great sadness therefore that I must reveal that the priests who journeyed to Valyria for this sacred mission did not escape the destruction. I must further admit that the Valyrian Pantheon were not destroyed with their nation, as they continued to recieve prayer through the cults that remained in many of the free cities. For even our utmost devotion is not always powerful enough to destroy these demons that wear the skins of gods.

But all is not lost. Benerro has foreseen that the time for Azor Ahai's return is nigh. Lightbringer shall be found and forged once more. And all men will know the power of Rhillor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will either be the last or second to last daily chapter, as this has finally caught up to alternate history. My update schedule can be anywhere from 1-4 days depending on the chapter.


	36. Tyrion III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Through Dungeons deep and Caverns old...

Through Dungeons deep and Caverns old...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 36**

Tyrion Lannister

The City of Erebos, Dwarf-Capital of the Westerlands - 13th Rhoynetide 299AC

  
"And the dwarf ran up to the top of the tower and ran back down again! For the King of the dwarves had followed him and made him less than a man!"

Ah, mining songs. I could never get tired of them, even after hearing them almost my entire life from the bowels of Casterly Rock. According to Cersei (though of course she phrased it as a bad thing) I had kept escaping from my room as a toddler and sneaking down to the mines to listen to the workers.

_Father was apparently furious._

I hoped to hear some new ones in Erebos, that I could then add to the growing collection in my notebooks. I had always had half a mind to release song collection as a book at some point, partially out of genuine interest and partially to annoy my father. I can hear him now..."A Lannister does not write books on singing."

_Well, I'm sorry that some of us have interests that don't involve murdering babies._

Twenty and I had just passed through the old fort marking the above-ground areas of the city of Erebos. Around us a wild grassland stretched off towards the sea, populated with the occasional hut or house. In the far distance I could see the gargantuan ruins of the old city, destroyed by the wrath of a sea dragon. Gigantic slashes and cracks had reduced many of the buildings to rubble and I heard Twenty quietly whistle as our horses trotted past a massive foot-shaped crater.

"I would not like to be facing a Sea Dragon in combat" he said, stunned at the size of it.

"You wouldn't have time to worry" I replied, grinning over at him. The two thousand years since the Sea Dragon's attack had allowed nature to reclaim many of the ruins, large vines and creepers climbing up the still-standing walls. In some strange way, they only added to the magnificence of the place. I had visited Erebos briefly before, on my travels around Westeros but had only stayed two nights there before moving on, as I wanted to get away from my father's reach.

The road passed through the ruins of an ancient hall, still standing strong after countless years. I still see the outlines or arches, and great windows set into the wall that hadn't been cleared for the road. Outlined on one wall was the mark of the Dwarf-Kings, a simple blocky shape with a meaning lost to history.

_Do the dwarves here still mourn their former glory? It sounds like the sort of thing our kind would do._

The Dwarven race was notorious for being immensely stubborn, obsessive about hoarding and valuing tradition above all else. To a human, a grandparents favourite dice might be a beloved trinket - but only a trinket. To a dwarf, any artefact of an ancestors - no matter how small - was a prized possession and the theft of such an object would be cause for a blood feud. The traits had passed onto half-dwarfs as well, with my father showing it through his determination to 'defend' the family name and I showing it through...my hoarding of knowledge, I suppose.

_It's hardly my fault everything is so damn fascinating._

A small party was waiting ahead of us on the road. Three of the group was sat on mountain goats while a fourth sat on a shire pony, a breed of horse common to the area around Ironman's Bay. As Twenty and I rode closer, I could see that the three on goats were men - two of them in heavy armour - while the one on the pony was a woman.

_And I recognise that woman..._

"Tyrion!" cried the woman, who I now recognised as my Aunt Genna. "It's been too long! How are you?" She leaped off the pony despite her age, as dwarves and half-dwarves retained their strength well into old age. I in turn leaped - well tripped - my way of my horse to embrace her.

"All the better for finally arriving dear Aunt" I replied, "It has been a long and tiresome journey. I fear I may have developed saddle rash."

"Some good ale will get rid of that" said the non-helmeted man, a wide dwarf with a thick red beard and a golden and iron crown on his bald head.

_Gemma's husband, the Dwarf King Barabos, son of Terman._

Dwarves did not use the system of house names that men did, instead preferring to style themselves as x, son/daughter of y, son/daughter of z and so on. When my aunt married into the true dwarves (though I doubted they didn't retain some human blood) she took the same naming system, becoming Genna, daughter of Jeyne.

_I doubt my father was particularly pleased but who really cares._

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, your Grace" I said, inclining my head to show respect. I hadn't met the man in my previous visit as he had been visiting some cousins in the Vale. The dwarf laughed.

"Ah, don't worry about ceremony!" he boomed, "We don't have any need for that here! Call me Barabos, I won't mind!" Genna chuckled as well.

"Don't fault the poor boy for showing respect my love" she replied, "It's only natural after being raised by my brother."

"Ha! True" Barabos said, "I remember when you first arrived. Almost tripping over yourself with desperation to be a proper lady." He turned back to me. "But enough talking out here in the cold. Let's go inside where it's warm and I can raid the drinking cabinet!"

\----------------

The three of us, plus Twenty had been escorted to a large hall deep within the labyrinthine city of Erebos. Typically of Dwarven architecture, the room was high vaulted, with massive pillars hewn into the rock. Being deep within the earth, no sunlight was able to reach the hall. Therefore I was surprised at the decent lighting of the room.

"The light comes from these" said Genna, walking over to a wall and reaching into what looked like a torch bracket. "A Firestone, found only in the deepest mines in the Westerlands." She was holding a large rough cut rock, fashioned in the shape of a sphere. The stone glowed with a pale golden light.

_I should get one of those for my late night reading sessions._

Genna and her husband had not been expecting my companion (thank you, father!) but upon hearing his family name, Barabos declared "Any Goodman is a friend of mine! Why, I fought alongside your father during the last Greyjoy rebellion!" I remembered that war distantly, especially the horror of watching Lannisport burn from my bedroom window. "So anyway, your father wished to discuss trade agreements if I remember correctly."

"Yes" I replied, "My father wished to arrange the trade of some sets of the new Twiststeel armour your smiths have reportedly created, along with the other usual things." Barabos nodded.

"They have indeed started production of the metal" he said, "Stronger than steel, though of course not up to the levels of Mythril or Skysteel. We've tested and it was able to take strikes from a steel pickaxe and warhammer without being damaged too much. How much is your father willing to offer?"

"50 dragons per set, unembellished."

"80" Barabos refuted, "The metal is still brand new and stocks are not massive."

_Never haggle with a dwarf._

"60 Dragons per set."

"70. Final Offer."

"60 and fishing rights to the south-east."

"Done!" Barabos grinned and reached forward to shake my hand. The fishing rights didn't really matter to my father as that area contained a Merling colony who took most of the fish themselves. "We can have a contract drawn up for tomorrow, so the rest of your time here can be spent with things more interesting than simple politics."

"I would like to visit the deep mine at some point, if that's possible" I replied. The deep mine was possibly the lowest dug mine in the entire world, and one of the few that actually reached into the Deep Dark. There had been one beneath Casterly Rock, but that had been sealed before the rise of the Lannisters.

_Apparently monstrous things lurk in the darkness..._

"We can set up a visit for the day after tomorrow then" Genna said.

 

**Extras 36:**

**Extract from 'Seven Wonders' by Lomas Longstrider**

**The City of Erebos**

At a first look, the inclusion of Erebos in this list may not make a lot of sense. After all, compared to the former city of Valyria or the Wall the dwarf-fortress does not seem particularly special. And that is true.

Above-ground.

While the entrance to the half-mountain is impressive, even after being badly damaged in the War of Iron and Gold, the true glory of the city is found underground. There the tunnels and halls of the greatest dwarf kingdom stretch for hundreds of miles underground - filled with houses, inns, gardens, banqueting halls and no less than six throne rooms. It is said that it would take a man a month to walk from the furthest edge of the city to the other edge and that is not taking into account the massive variety in depths - including the only recorded open hole into the deep dark, the legendary caverns haunted by beasts that would put the Black Goat to shame.

It is often forgotten that Erebos is actually the biggest city in Westeros, even compared to Old and New King's Landing. This is in terms of population size as well as size, because unlike men, all dwarves prefer to live in cities, rather than out in the countryside. The city was founded by the Dwarf-Father Minam, following his legendary journey from the continent of Farthos. According to the legends it was the first dwarf settlement founded in Westeros, though this is disputed by the city of Bronzehold in the Vale.

Erebos has never been successfully taken and has truly only faced a long siege once, from the forces of a rogue faction of House Casterly. This has led to the famous saying "Any man may enter Erebos, it's gates are open to all. No man may take Erebos, for we shall never fall." 'Men' in this context refers to both dwarves and humans. It is also the only recorded city to have successfully resisted a Sea Dragon attack without divine intervention, something not even the Island of Koridoran can claim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely the last daily chapter.
> 
> Updates happen every 1-4 days.


	37. Kevan I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a Secret of Survival in a very nasty world!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 37**

Kevan Lannister

Casterly Rock, Capital of the Westerlands - 5th Garthtide 299AC

  
Tywin was pacing, the letter from King's Landing lying on the desk between us.

"That stupid girl!" he seethed, "What madness drove her to decide that attacking half our allies was a good idea?" My brother couldn't be blamed for his anger, as in one move Cersei had turned half her realm and some of the other kingdoms against us. It was just as well that Stannis had managed to take charge in the Black Keep, as at this rate Cersei would probably order an invasion of Dorne.

_And those never turned out well. Still, I must try and be reasonable..._

"Perhaps there are reasons we haven't been informed of Tywin; Pyrcelle's letter mentions that Cersei is staying quiet on why she ordered the attack." I was still sat in front of the desk, mulling over possibilities for if my brother needed my advice.

"A big enough reason to murder Eddard Stark and Hoster Justman!" Tywin exclaimed, "What reason could she have?" He collapsed into a chair and took a long swig from a mug of ale. "I expect this sort of stupidity from Tyrion, not from her or Jaime."

_Tyrion was the only one of your children to inherit your mind brother, even if you refuse to see that._

I knew why my brother hated Tyrion despite all efforts, the pain of Joanna's death still echoing after all these years. He was determined to despise his son, wilfully blinding himself to any of Tyrion's good qualities. I admit that he's a bit of a whoremonger and probably has too much liking for alcohol, but his goodness far outweighs the bad.

"There is no chance for peace now" Tywin mused, "The Starks and Justmans would only be satisfied with the deaths of Cersei and Jaime. Despite their actions, they are still Lannisters and that is not an option." He reached into a drawer on his desk and pulled out a large scroll, which unfolded to show a map of the Seven Kingdoms, as well as Dorne. "Northos is impossible to invade due to the Ice Dragon...Rodrick Harlaw will stay neutral...as will Dorne...It will be impossible to capture the ports in time..."

"Perhaps we should lure them into a trap in the southern Riverlands?" I suggested, "Far enough away that they won't be able to retreat to where we can't follow." Tywin hummed and began moving figures from a little box around on the map.

"Yes..." he murmured, "The Justman forces will have to fall quickly of course, they cannot be allowed to link up with the Starks...or the Arryns if they side against us." He placed a figurine holding a hourglass - the symbol of House Justman - on the city of Oldstones, before slowly dragging it down towards the edge of the Westerlands. "Edmure Justman is inexperienced and young. If we taunt him, spur his anger we can trick him into a position where we trap him between us and the forces of Barabos."

"The dwarves will not march through the Golden Tooth brother" I pointed out, "And for that matter, why would they ally with us against humans who aren't threatening them directly?"

"I have considered that" Tywin replied, "To get around the superstitions, the dwarves will take a passage to the north, near the Tumblestone. And as for why they will join with us well..." He smirked. "The dwarves are naturally suspicious of anything that desecrates the dead and while the Starks may not partake in that, the Others certainly do."

_The Others haven't come south of the wall in centuries. And no one's heard of a wight in nearly all that time._

"Even with the Otherblood it will not be an easy sell" I replied, "We may need to examine other alternatives. Perhaps exploiting the weaknesses of the Riverlands forces?" I moved one of the figures, a large sculpted troll next to the Justman figure. "Water witches will be useless in the mountains, so they will have little access to strong magic. Therefore they won't have much capable of damaging trolls at range and their cavalry will be useless due to the horse's fear." Tywin nodded in agreement.

"I can also spare some miners with earth magic" he said, "Careful use of chasm creating could create disorder in their ranks, even if casualties are light." He nodded again. "Yes, I shall follow your suggestion Kevan." He picked up another figurine, a golden lion and moved it towards King's Landing. "You shall lead the force into the Riverlands, aim to destroy the Justman forces but do not engage the Starks." I nodded in submission.

"And you brother?" I asked.

"I shall travel to King's Landing, to prevent anymore of Cersei's stupidity."

  


**Extras 37:**

**Extract from 'Animals of the Westerlands' by Maester Lionel**

**Trolls**

A troll of nearly any variety is a common site in the part of Westeros known as the Westerlands. Almost always they are used for pulling carts or hard manual labour, though in times of warfare they fill up a vital position in the armies of House Lannister.

Stupid and slow learning creatures, trolls are easy to train in whatever their owner requires. Usually they begin training 6 months after birth, when they are weaned from their mothers (Shetrolls being the correct term for a female of the species). If not properly trained they can anger very quickly, which combined with their strength and size makes wild trolls a persistent threat.

Here is a list of the separate types (though each one has a few known variations):

 **River Troll:** The most common variety, and the only type with no connection to mountainous terrain. This troll is recognisable for its greenish oily skin, similar in texture to that of a seal. They are average sized for a troll and generally gentle unless angered. They form the core of any troll army.

 **Mountain Troll:** A rarer variety, found in the mountainous areas of the Westerlands. They have hard grey skin covered with thick fur and are fond of clubs, unlike their river brethren. They are known to live in groups of around three. Mountain Trolls have a notoriously bad temper which can prove problematic, especially when the cause is another troll.

 **Cave Troll:** The smallest of the regular trolls, Cave Trolls are only found underground or at night. They have hairless dark grey skin. This is because for unknown reasons, they will turn to stone if caught by the sun's rays. Due to their vulnerability, they do not have a place in any human armies. They are often found as the companions of goblin tribes, used as living battering rams in their raids.

 **Greater Cave Troll:** A much bigger variety of the normal Cave Troll, Greater Cave Trolls are identical apart from one fact - they are the size of a giant. This makes them much more dangerous in combat, though the normal troll is still a very dangerous opponent. They also have a bluer skin than the other variety.

 **Ogre:** The Ogre is in an odd situation, as many do not consider it a type of troll at all. It has many differing features from the other varieties, the greatest of them being an actual human level intelligence. They stand only slightly taller than a normal man, and have green or brown skin. Ogres are well-hated throughout the Westerlands for being savage and cruel creatures, who will often take as long as they can to kill a victim, so that they can enjoy the screams of pain. The Dwarves in particular have an immense dislike for them.


	38. Margaery I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rose and the Stag...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 38**

Margaery Tyrell

Highgarden, Capital of the Reach - 12th Garthtide 299AC

  
"In the sight of gods and men, I pronounce you husband and wife!" cried the Septon of Highgarden as Renly and I kneeled before him. The sept had been garlanded with flowers for the occasion, swirls of violet, blue and red intwined around the pillars and chairs. Roses, the symbol of House Tyrell were given pride of place, white and red and golden. Renly had one pinned to his tunic while I had a whole stream of them decorating the trail of my ornate dress.

_I can walk...barely._

The Septon lowered a crown onto my forehead, silver with roses and antlers intwined. For now I was only queen of the Reach and the Stormlands - which admittedly was a sizeable area - but with the forces at Renly's disposal and the hatred the other regions had for the Lannisters, I would soon be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not just a queen, but the queen.

_It's a pity that my 'husband' might not be up to the task._

"Tomorrow we march on King's Landing!" shouted Renly, to the men's cheers. It wasn't that I frowned upon my brother's relationship with Renly. Truth be told, I approved as it had only brought them happiness together. But when I was caught in the middle, confined to merely acting the happy wife while in reality being forced to grow old and cold alone...it didn't really endear me to the man I had pledged myself too. My father, bless his heart was unaware of the extent of Renly and Loras' friendship and so saw no issues with the idea of my marriage. But my mother and grandmother were aware, so while the latter had pushed against the marriage ("Just until we can be sure Mace") the former had insured that the wedding would be held in Highgarden so Loras could be prevented from interfering in the bedding.

_That's only one part of the problem though..._

Renly held my arm as we processed down the aisle, waving with a broad smile to the crowds. They in return cheered and threw rose petals over the two of us. A little girl (I suspected one of my goodsisters) ran out and presented me with a large set of roses, blue winter ones if I was correct. I rewarded the girl with a large smile and a whispered "Thank you" as she ran back to her parents. At least some people are enjoying themselves even if I cannot.

I could still vaguely hear Loras over the roar of the crowd.

\----------------

The procession to the bedding was awful as I expected. The fact that the men were carrying the daughter of their liege lord had not occurred to them and therefore I felt like I had already been bedded by the time I finally arrived in the bedchamber given to Renly.

_Some women say that giving up your maidenhood in your own home is easier. It certainly doesn't feel like it._

My hands were damp with sweat as I waited for Renly to arrive. Distantly I heard the laughter of the men outside as I leaned against the door in the torn remains of the dress. I was shivering I realised. Even though I knew Renly well and knew his 'interests' did not dwell under a woman's dress, I was still paralysed with fear over what I was expected to do. The bed had been covered with rose petals in preparation.

_"You look just like your mother did Margaery."_

_But you actually felt something for mother, father..._

A sudden band startled me as Renly was pushed through the door, half-naked himself and looking distinctly uncomfortable. We stared at each other in silence, accompanied by the noises from outside the chamber. Renly cleared his throat.

"Wine?" he asked, his voice squeaky with nerves.

"Please" I replied. Perhaps this would go easier for the both of us if we were intoxicated. The small decanter of Arbor Red had been placed on a table set to the side of the large bed. He poured two large glasses out for the two of us. The wine did nothing to quell the unease in my stomach.

"I don't know if this will work" Renly said, his eyes focused on one of the doors to the room, "I've never...done something like this before."

"Neither have I" I replied, "But...it has to."

_Once I'm pregnant you can go back to Loras and we'll never need to do this again._

"Come to bed" he said with surprising confidence. I obeyed and laid down beside him, clad only in a cream shift. "Uh, so...how do you want to do this?" he asked nervously. I suspected his thoughts were filled with guilt at the idea of touching his lover's sister.

"I don't need to completely disrobe your grace so..." I thought for a second, "Perhaps you could pretend I am Loras, if that would make it easier." Renly took another gulp of wine before setting down the empty glass on the table. I heard him unbuckling his belt before leaning shakily over the top of me.

_Growing Strong..._

A few minutes of pain and awkwardness later and it was over. I curled up on the bed, pulling the blankets closer around my spoiled shift. Renly made a quick retreat from the room, pulling on a clean shirt and breeches before exiting from the room. I was left alone in the cold bedchamber.

_Here's to married life._

 

**Extras 38:**

**Extract from 'History of the Reach' by Historian Garth**

**The Great Schisms**

As known to all Westerosi, there are three organisations that have lasted longer than any others, connecting us directly to our ancestors. The first of these is the Order of the Maesters, that can be traced to a time before even the Long Night. The second of these is the Priests of the Drowned God, which originated sometime between 4,500 and 2,500 BAC (Recorded as halfway between the Long Night (between 8,000-5,000 BAC) and Aegon's Conquest). And the third is the Faith of the Seven, originating from the time of the Andal Invasion (3,200 BAC). All three have survived remarkably unchanged throughout the centuries, with few sects or divisions occurring. Of course, in the case of the latter two this can be attributed to the Drowned Men's 'aggressive' policies and the Faith Militant.

However despite the best attempts, divisions and cracks have arisen in their ranks. Setting aside the Drowned Men, who I have written about extensively in 'History of the Iron Islands' there have been two defining divisions in the ranks of the Faith and the Maester Order - both linked to the oldest city in Westeros, Oldtown.

The First Great Maester Schism as it is now known was in reality a fairly small affair, caused due to a trading dispute between the King of Winter and the King of Oldtown. As an attempt to force Winterfell to submit, the King of Oldtown ordered the Maester order to withdraw their support from Northos. While this did work in some respects, as any Maester postings to Northos immediately ceased it caused a backlash none of the lords had expected. The Maesters of Northos revolted and established there own version of the order, operating directly out of Winterfell. The Maester in Winterfell took the title of Grand Maester, a tradition that would continue to the present day (and eventually be copied by Aegon). Despite the trade dispute being eventually solved, the split was never fixed and the orders remain fierce rivals.

The First Great Schism of the Faith occurred as a result of the reign of Garth Greybeard and the wars between his vassals. I have covered this elsewhere, so I will only give a short summary. As Garth had sired no sons, both Lord Peake and Lord Manderly (who had each married a daughter) were determined to press their own claims to the Oakenseat, the ancient throne of House Gardener. House Florent and House Hightower also rebelled, determined to not be ruled by 'Lesser Houses' (and in the case of the Hightowers, apparently desiring to retake their own ancient title of king). The end result (as by this point Garth had gone fully senile) was a decade of war in the Reach, seeing the destruction of numerous noble houses including House Florent, House Fossoway and House Rowan (though the second was revived a few centuries later). The violence itself only truly came to end when Lord Osmond Tyrell took a cousin of Garth to wife and declared himself king. With the utter ruin that had come to the other armies (Manderly having fled, Florent being destroyed, Peake and Hightower being in ruins) he was able to slowly, but successfully take control of the Reach. And so started the reign of House Tyrell.

The splintering of the Faith in this conflict occurred due to the habit of all the contenders of naming their own High Septon. While House Manderly's version of the faith came to nothing - being swallowed up by the Old Gods - and House Hightower retained the old High Septon, the other claimants of the title gathered their own power basis. House Peake's version of the faith gained great prominence in Dorne, eventually being taken up by the Yrownwood Kings. House Tyrell's personal Septon gained a notable following that only rejoined with the original sect a century after the war. And House Florent's High Septon fled to the Riverlands, slowly gaining a following in the region (and always careful to avoid the wrath of the Old Gods).

The Second Great Schism in both the Order of the Maesters and the Faith of the Seven was a direct result of the destruction of Oldtown by a Sea Dragon during the war caused by Baelor the Mad. With both the Citadel and the Starry Sept being in ruins, the leadership of both orders took a massive hit. All but one of the Most Devout were dead and only three Archmaesters of the original order survived.

The rumours that the Grand Maester of Winterfell said "Finally! Some Karma for those arseholes!" have never been confirmed.

The High Septon of Baelor's Sept immediately declared it a sign from the Seven that all other divisions must be cleansed. As the entire realm had already risen up against Baelor this didn't help the man himself and indeed, he perished along with his King in the destruction of King's Landing (also by Sea Dragon). However, many other sects took note. While the Faith in Dorne and the Riverlands had been unaffected by the war (being based in the cities of Starfall and Oldstones respectively) the believers in the Reach, the Westerlands, the Stormlands and the Crownlands had not been spared. And far too many of them resorted to the solution of violence. So began the period known as the Troubles in Westeros, where families and friends tore each other apart to please the gods. It took seven years for King Viserys to quell the anarchy and even after that time, riots were disturbingly common in all the regions.

The ruling factions of the Faith had split into three distinct parts by the end of the conflict, all of which refused to recognise the others: The Faith in Newtown, the Faith in New King's Landing and the Faith in Lannisport. Their rivalry continues to the present day, though they are unable to actually fight due to the outlawing of the Faith Militant by Viserys due to this period.

On the side of the Maesters the schism was thankfully less violent. The loss of the Citadel library and vaults severely damaged the power of the ruling council in Oldtown, eventually leading to the rise of the Historian Order of which I am a member. The order was filled with those Maesters - mainly lowborn - who were dissatisfied with the rules of the old order, so much that they rebelled and founded their own with might lighter restrains. For example, the libraries of the order are open to all so that the knowledge in them can be passed onto more than just the highborn. While we may operate of Newtown, we are not the same as the Maesters.


	39. Cassana II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many Meetings.

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 39**

Cassana Baratheon

King's Landing, Capital of the Seven Kingdoms - 15th Garthtide 299AC

  
_Oh mother, what have you done?_

I rested my head in my arms, both out of grief - for my father and the Stark girls - and despair over my mother's madness. What had she been trying to achieve? In one day, my brother had gone from being king of a peaceful Westeros, to the king of one facing enemies from all sides.

"Bad news?" asked my Uncle, sitting on the other side of the table. We were sat up in the Hand's solar which Stannis had moved into immediately after he had gained control, despite my mother's attempts to push Uncle Jaime forward as a contender. She had failed (thank gods) to succeed, or indeed prevent her brother and herself from being locked in tower cells awaiting their trials.

"Robyn's letter confirms it, the Starks have declared war" I replied, placing down the said letter in front of me. I couldn't say I hadn't expected it, considering that Eddard Stark had been murdered in cold blood, but I had hoped... Already the rumours that my mother and her brother had murdered Brandon Stark as well were flooding the city, seized by a population that suddenly hated us.

_And their reactions didn't help._

Upon discovering the rumours about her my mother had ordered members of the Goldcloaks into the city to "quell the lies". It had only been the quick response of one of my uncle's men that had saved us all for from a riot, though the organisation of the Goldcloaks had been driven into chaos with Janos Slynt and several of his high ranking officers either dead or imprisoned.

"It's what I expected" my uncle replied, "If the girl wanted to retain her authority she had to declare against us." I noticed that the Stark figurines on the table had already been designated as enemies, with the golden bases that showed an ally of the crown being swapped out for black ones. The Justman, Arryn and Koridan sigils (hourglasses, falcons and goblets respectively) had also been labelled as foes, while the Harlaws, Tyrells and Martells (Scythes, Roses and Suns) were coloured blue to designate them as neutral.

_We only have the Stormlands and the Westerlands as allies at the moment._

"Where's your brother?" Stannis asked, "He should be here as King, even if he doesn't make any decisions."

"Probably still acting like a spoilt toddler" I replied. I had needed my uncle's reminder that Joffrey had inherited our father's crown, as he had done nothing significant since he took it. Since the day of Eddard Stark's death he had been barely involved in court politics, preferring to mope in his room while ordering various members of the court to do his bidding. Currently he had demanded that every surviving small council member had been confined to the Black cells, along with persistent demands for the heads of half the lords of the realm.

_Thankfully he's not actually in charge as both of those actions would have caused even more problems._

"You shouldn't speak of him that way" Stannis replied, "He is still your brother and your King."

"I'll give him some respect when he earns it" I muttered, "Tommen is acting more mature and he's eight. Gods, Lanna is acting more mature and she's five!" Granted she hadn't taken being separated from our mother well but compared to Joffrey... "I'm the eldest anyway."

"Which means you have a responsibility to ensure he does his duty" Stannis said, resting his arms on the table. "Your father may have been a strong king but he was a terrible brother, removing me from Storm's End only to give me a cheap rock in Bloodwater Bay."

"Dragonstone was the holding of the heir to the throne though" I asked, "Didn't father mean it as an honour?"

"Not when you're going from a Lord Paramount to a Lord of barren rocks" replied Stannis, "But still I did my duty, despite whatever feelings I may have held."

_You did..._

My uncle had always served my father well, whether in holding Storm's End in the rebellion against the Targaryens or commanding the Royal Fleets in the Fall of the Greyjoys. He had served for over a decade on the small council and was now the most senior member (aside from Varys). There had been much consternation when he had appointed a Davos Seasworth as Master of Ships and Gawyn Tarth as Master of Coin, several of my mother's supporters demanding a Lannister candidate.

_"When Lord Tywin arrives I will discuss appropriate positions with him."_

That had not settled the issue of course, but thankfully the war was the first thing on most people's minds. We hadn't heard any news from Uncle Renly yet and while it seemed unlikely that he had been murdered by an enemy, no one could be sure.

_Unless he's declared against us as well, ha! That would be the icing on the cake._

"I know I can convince Robyn to call peace" I said, "We've known each other through letters for years. Let me travel to her and I can get her and the Justmans to wait until we've called a trial for my mother." My uncle immediately shook his head.

"Too dangerous, the answer is no" he replied, "You'd be traveling through war torn lands, filled with people who will not always respect a truce flag."

"It's better than a war!" I said desperately, "and what other choice do we have!"

"Many" Stannis replied, "We can use battle. We can use assassins. We can send ravens but we cannot send the eldest daughter of Robert Baratheon into danger on a fool's chance!"

_Robyn is my friend. I will not abandon her._

"As you wish" I said, lowing my eyes with fake sullen.

"Don't try and sneak off" my uncle ordered with a pointed stare, "The guards do not need to be chasing down a runaway princess on top of everything else."

_My stag will outrun them._

"I won't."

_I will._

\----------------

I opened the door to my mother's room with trepidation, the guards standing aside to allow me access. It had always been like this, even when my mother wasn't essentially a prisoner.

_"You're not worthy of being a Lannister!"_

_I'm not a Lannister. I am a Baratheon, no matter what you want. Ours is the Fury._

"Mother?" I called, glancing around the empty room. The furniture was solid gold (of course) mined from Casterly Rock. On the walls hung various tapestries, depicting various events my mother was fond of. Chief among them was one of Duram's Bane, disturbingly enough. "Mother? Are you here?"

_You can't have escaped?_

I wouldn't have thought my mother had the courage to climb out a window, or the humbleness to disguise herself as a maid.

"Has that traitor sent you?" said my mother's voice. Following the sound I finally spotted her sat in a dark corner of the room, glaring with shadowed eyes.

"He didn't" I replied, "and Uncle Stannis is not a traitor mother, he's the one running Joffrey's kingdom for him." She laughed.

"He's running it for himself girl" she stated, "He's always been jealous of his brother and now he will take it out on his nephew." Infuriated perhaps, but never jealous. I couldn't imagine Stannis being jealous of someone.

"He's not a Lannister, mother" I said.

"That's the issue!" Cersei hissed, "Anyone who isn't us is the enemy! Whether Stark, Justman or Baratheon!" She stroked the back of her right hand, still covered by a glove.

_Oh gods, not this again._

"I'm a Baratheon mother" I replied, "Therefore I must be your enemy." She remained silent. I wasn't at shortsighted or paranoid as my mother, or at least I hoped I wasn't. Most people would be content to live in peace, as long as we didn't force them to go to war.

_You can't justify what you've done._

I sighed. "The other houses weren't our enemies until you attacked them" I said, "We're at war because of you! Can't you accept that!" Didn't she have any reason for her actions! Any remorse!

"We're at war because of traitors and liars!" she shouted, standing up and marching towards me. "We're at war because those northern savages were too stupid to kneel to their betters!"

_They didn't kneel to the Targaryens, what chance do you have?_

"Are we their betters?" I shouted back, "Because at the moment I haven't seen anything to agree with you!" She slapped me across the face with a gloved hand.

"Do not speak to your queen in such a way child!" my mother shrieked, "I should have you whipped!" The scar on my back tingled with her words.

"I'm sorry, your grace" I ground out, "I will not bother you again." I headed for the door.

"Don't you walk away from me girl!" she ordered.

But I had already left.

\----------------

I saddled up Buckhead (my great stag - an eighth birthday present from my father) with food and blankets before mounting him and trotting off. Dusk had already fallen on King's Landing, so I wasn't too worried about being seen. Even so, I had changed into a maid's dress I had stolen from the laundry almost a year ago and tied back my hair under a cloak. The guards were fairly weak at this hour as it was just before the change over for the night shift. For someone who knew the city well - like me - it was a godsend that was easily exploitable.

I didn't want to upset my mother, not really. The woman had birthed me and I knew that deep within her, buried under years of spite and hate was some love for me in turn. Perhaps we were too similar. She had a lion's fury and I had a stag's roars.

"Onwards Buckhead" I commanded. It would be a long journey to the Riverlands and we would have to move quickly.

_I'll stop this war._

 

 

**Extras 39:**

**Letters shared between Princess Cassana Baratheon and Princess/Queen Robyn Stark - Taken from 'Letters from a Fallen Generation' by Jonnel Stark**

**Robyn to Cassana (recorded as arriving on 13th Rhoynetide):**

Dear Cassana,

You asked me in your last letter for information on the tribes of the Children inhabiting the woods of Northos. I can't say a immense amount in a short letter so I recommend you read Maester Rickard's Histories of Northos to get a better picture. They might be fairly rare in the south due to the rivalry between the northern Maesters and your ones, but the Royal Library should at least have one copy (if it hasn't been nicked).

There are three main tribes of children, named after the seasons of Spring, Summer and Autumn (though there may be more beyond the wall). They live in the Wolfswood, the Hornwood and the small marsh on Greywater Isle. Apparently there used to be colonies on Bear Island and near Ironwrath as well, though those are believed to have dried up. The children prefer to keep to themselves, but have occasionally helped my family in times of crisis.

As I said, the books will probably be able to go into a lot more detail than I can in a letter. If you have any more questions though, feel free to send a raven.

Robyn

**Cassana to Robyn (recorded as arriving on 26th Rhoynetide):**

Robyn,

Thank you for the information and the recommendation. The Royal Library did thankfully have a copy of the books, tucked away in a dusty corner. My mother wasn't happy to find me reading them, for as you know she's a teensy bit prejudiced.

It's a sad truth that I've barely ever seen any magical creatures. Even on my visits to Highgarden and Casterly Rock they were kept away from me and my siblings, my mother going on about 'corrupting our minds'. Considering we live in King's Landing I suspect we're perfectly corrupted already. I did once see a Satyr though, escorting the Queen of Thorns (Olenna Tyrell if you don't know) about. And of course I saw your family's direwolves when we came to visit.

I do have a pet stag thankfully (called Buckhead - long story), which I've raised since I was about eight. He doesn't like the cold unfortunately, so I wasn't able to bring him north to see Grey Wind. It's the reason my father wasn't able to bring his stag 'Durram' north either, especially as the latter can get very grouchy when not cared for properly. My siblings have ones as well but they've never gotten on as well as my father and I.

In case you were wondering, your siblings seem to be getting on fine down in the south. I've spent more time with Sansa than Arya admittedly (she seems rather aggressive if you don't mind me saying), but I've shared afternoon meals and broken my fast with both of them. I haven't seen a lot of your father admittedly but he seems to be getting on well with mine.

I have to finish this letter now due to lessons so see you soon.

Cass

**Robyn to Cassana (recorded as arriving on 11th Garthtide):**

Cass,

Thanks for telling me about my siblings. I know they'll get on fine with father there to protect them but I do worry, as does mother and Jo. They're letters might say a lot but they can hide things that might worry one of us. Don't worry about Arya, she's just probably homesick.

I was wondering, have you read Maester Lionel's 'Animals of Westeros'? Maester Luwin suggests it as a good resource, even with the bad history between the northern and southern orders. I've read the copy in the Winterfell library and while it doesn't cover Northos (I suggest 'The Lord Commander's Letters' for that), it does provide an excellent exploration of the fauna of the south. I confess, the chapter on Knockers disturbed me quite a bit. There's a reason Arya is forbidden from reading it until she's a little older.

It's a pity that you weren't able to bring 'Buckhead' (seriously?) north as I'm sure he and Grey Wind would have gotten on fine. The direwolves have never liked the taste of stag for some reason - haha. Being serious, perhaps once my father and siblings have returned I might be able to make a visit south with Cregan. I know my mother's been desiring a trip to Oldstones for a while so we might be able to work in something there.

I've enclosed in this letter a small map of Northos (it might be a bit scruffy but then my drawings never been very good) showing the locations of all the children settlements we know about - plus the Giants near Last Hearth. I hope you like it - though don't worry if you don't, it only took me about 20 minutes during a break from holding court.

Pass on my best wishes to your siblings,

Rob

**Cassana to Robyn (recorded as arriving on 30th Garthtide):**

Rob,

I'm so sorry for what happened in the throne room. If I or my uncles had known what my mother was planning we would have prevented it, I swear. I know what it's like to lose a father and I wouldn't want to force that on anyone, least of all you.

As it happens my mother has been forced out of power and will be given a trial as soon as possible. If your sisters are found I will ensure they are returned to you unharmed, you have my word. The bodies of your father and his men - as well as their possessions are already heading north by ship.

Please don't start a war. The realm will suffer and burn because of the actions of one mad woman. I can't defend what my mother has done but the smallfolk do not deserve that.

I am your friend.

Cass

**Robyn to Cassana (recorded as arriving on 16th Viserion):**

Cassana,

It's too late for peace. Your family killed my brother. Your family killed my father. Northos must be avenged. My lords will not allow anything less.

I'm sorry.

Robyn

**Also, here are the months of High Fantasy Planetos:**

  1. Aegonion: Named from Aegon the Conquerer, celebrates his crowning - added by Aegon the Conquerer.
  2. Visenion: Named for Visenya - added by Aegon the Conquerer.
  3. Rhaenion: Named for Rhaenerys - added by Aegon the Conquerer.
  4. Hugortide: Named for Hugor of the Hill, celebrates his birthdate - added by the Andals.
  5. Minumfest: Named for Minum, celebrates his arrival in Westeros - comes from the old Dwarven Calendar.
  6. Rhoynetide: Named for Mother Rhoyne, celebrates the Rhoynar arrival in Westeros - added by the Rhoynar.
  7. Garthtide: Also called Garthfest, named for Garth Greenhand, celebrates his birthdate - comes from the old Reach Calendar.
  8. Viserion: Named for Viserys the Great - added to replace Baelorion after the War of the Faiths.
  9. Brandonfest: Named for Brandon the Builder, celebrates the end of the Long Night - comes from the old Northos Calendar.
  10. Septonion: Named for the Seven, celebrates the believed birthdate for the Maiden - added by Baelor the Mad.
  11. Duramfest: Named for Duram, celebrates his birthdate - comes from Dwarven Calendar.
  12. Seventide: Named for the Seven, celebrates the believed birthdate of the Warrior - added by the Andals.



Fest \- From the First Men Tongue, meaning festival.  
Tide \- From the Andal Tongue, meaning season (as in period, not as in Winter or Summer).  
Ion \- From High Valyrian, typical end of dates.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I've been down with the flu all last week and was too tired to even think about writing.
> 
> After chapter 40 (Jeor Mormont) I'll be doing some editing to earlier chapters, both to improve them and sort out continuity.


	40. Jeor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring on the Wall!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 40**

Jeor Mormont

The Nightfort, The Wall, Barrier between Northos and the Lands of the Free Folk - 13th Garthtide 299AC

_  
Seven Hells for Seven Gods, Seven Gods for Seven Swords, Seven Swords for Seven Voices._

\----------------

A Man is the sum of his experiences. His doubts, his fears, his joys and his regrets.

_I have a lot of regrets._

"Lord Commander?" asked the Steward, "Are you well?" I shook my head and ran a hand through what remained of my grey hair. The solar was unusually warm today, heated by the pipes installed with the help of King Edwyle Stark over fifty years ago. The heat had caused me to open the small window on the left wall and roll up the large mammoth pelt that served as a rug.

"Just tired, Bowen" I replied, "My body continues to feel its age, all full of aches from far too long ago." I had a particularly nasty one in my back, following an incident with a gigantic snow bear in my youth, when my father had taken us hunting beyond the Wall.

_I probably should have taken Jorah hunting a few more times..._

"As I was saying then, we need to refill our supplies of ale. The current traders are only bringing meat and fish north with them and while we can get water easily, the men will riot without their allowance of alcohol." I dimly remembered the last time the Watch had truly run out of alcohol.

_The Starks and Umbers were very busy that year._

"I will send a letter to Last Hearth ordering a renewal of our stocks. Do we have enough money to safely buy an appropriate amount?" The accounts of the Winter's Watch had never been particularly rich, filled only by the tax issued from Winterfell, the taxes on the people living in the Gift and the occasional fine on a trader passing beyond the Wall. The last one of those had been over a year ago and had been 'persuaded' to leave his steel weapons with the Watch.

_I cannot allow the Wildlings to gain steel. My men must retain the advantage._

"There should be enough for a decent sized purchase" replied Bowen, "If necessary we can cut back on repairs to the Wall itself as we're heading into another winter." While the Maester Citadel of the south had not declared the beginning of a winter yet, the Citadel in Winterfell led by Old Luwin had announced its beginning several weeks ago, spurred by the changes in the numerous instruments belonging to the order.

"Very well, I'll write it up later" I said, "Is there anything else you needed to discuss with me?"

"Nothing else today Lord Commander" Bowen replied with a smile, "I won't take up anymore of your time." He stood to leave.

"Don't think you're a nuisance Bowen" I said, "You're better company than most people here, even if staring at you does make me wonder about our food stocks." He snorted then left.

_I deny coming up with the Old Pomegranate nickname._

I turned my mind back to the reports on my desk. Alliser Thorne was seeking permission to take a group of recruits out on a ranging.

_Fine. The recruits will hate it but they need to gain experience somehow._

Othell Yarwyck was asking for permission to extend the barracks at Castle Black.

_Haven't you built enough this year? Maybe I should just let you build another castle as I'm sure that would make you happy...But fine, go ahead._

Robyn Stark was mustering Northos to war to ave...

_Oh._

The letter was not asking the Winter's Watch to join in, truthfully it was assuring me that several of the lords closest to the wall (including Benjen Stark) were being ordered to keep forces home incase of a wildling attack. Still, the news of Eddard Stark's death shocked me, as did the manner of his death.

_What could compel the Baratheons to behave in such a way?_

The last time (the only time really) I had interacted with a Baratheon was during Robert's Rebellion, back when I had still been Lord of Bear Island rather than the Lord of the Nightfort. I remembered the man as jolly and outgoing, despite the kidnapping of his betrothed and the war that had consumed his lands. I had difficulty therefore imagining him raising his children to act as they had, especially considering his close friendship with 'Ned'.

_"The Winter's Watch stays neutral..."_

The Winter's Watch would stay neutral in the war. There was no other option. To do otherwise would mean abandoning our sacred duty to defend the Wall, not to mention angering the Old Gods who would not allow for the vows to be broken. The news of the war did mean that resources would have to be stretched tighter however, as supplies from Winterfell and any castles not right next to the Gift would be diverted to assist the armies of Northos, rather than the Watch. The money coming in from taxes would be lessened, as doubtless collecting the money would be difficult in wartime.

_But I can help in other ways._

I rose from my chair and grabbed my cloak and sword, before exiting from the solar. The many years I had served as Lord Commander meant I found my way to the yard with ease, weaving through the dark corridors of the Nightfort - all carved out of cold black stone and embellished with ancient carvings. Even on the warmest days and with the warmest water rushing through the pipes, the stones would always feel cold and oddly oily to the touch. There was a good reason why the place was also known as 'The Godless Castle'.

"Waymar!" I called as I marched across to where the recruit was tending to the horse. "I would have a word if you didn't mind." The man nodded his head and stood up from where he had been kneeling, bits of horse hair still stuck to his tunic. He had traveled north to the Wall a little under three months ago and had since proven himself quite capable, if a little snooty.

"Of course, Lord Commander" replied Waymar, "I wasn't doing anything urgent."

"Good" I said, "I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to perform a favour for me, off the books." The man's eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Off the books?" he asked.

"Yes" I replied, "For what I am asking you to do has very little to do with the Winter's Watch." I glanced around quickly to see if we were being eavesdropped on. "Eddard Stark and Hoster Justman have been murdered in King's Landing." I looked to see a reaction from the man.

"Murdered?" he said with confusion, "But...why?"

_I'm still wondering that._

"I don't know the full reasons, if there are any but I'm sure that you understand what this means." The boy was fairly intelligent, after all. Yohn Royce was unlikely to leave his son's without a lord's education.

"Northos is going to war, and the Riverlands, and the - oh!" His face paled as he realised...

"The Vale will join them" I confirmed, "With the marriages between the three kingdoms nothing else could occur."

_And now the meat of why I am here._

"Which is why I must ask you: is the Watch truly what you wish to do in your life?" I asked.

"Serving on the Wall is a great honour my Lord" the boy spluttered, "There is no greater order!" I raised an eyebrow. "But...no. I joined as a third son, unlikely to recieve many lands or amount to anything." I smiled.

"You may amount to more than you think Waymar" I said, "and if you fail, well the Wall will always be here." He straightened and forced his own smile.

"So what did you need me for?" He asked.

"My mission is twofold" I replied, "and quite possibly extremely dangerous - which is partly why I have chosen you, a trained knight who has not yet sworn his vows to complete it. The first part is to stir up the villagers of the Gift. While they technically only own allegiance to the Watch, many of them also bear Stark loyalties." How could they not, after all the aid the house has given us in the past. "I would have as many of them as possible join Robyn Stark's army." Waymar nodded.

"And the second part?" he asked.

"For the second part, you must travel to Bear Island, the seat of my own house. I suggest taking a boat at Greenfalls, a village close to the western mountains." I pulled a small ring off my finger. "This was given to me by my sister when she was a child, show it to her to prove you come with my blessing."

"What am I to do at Bear Island then, my Lord?"

"Tell her a message - 'Wolf. Kraken. Lion. Giant. Bear.' Make sure she hears all that correctly, she will understand when the time is right." I stood back and replaced the glove on the hand where I had removed the ring. "Live your life for a bit Waymar. Just because you are a third son does not make you useless. Meet a girl, start a family and experience the world, as I wish my son had. The Wall will always be here, if you want to return."

"I will" he replied, "and I will complete your mission - I swear it on the Sea Queen's blessings."

"I know you will."

 

 

**Extras 40:**

**Extract from 'The Many Wars of Winter' by Lord Commander Brynden Umber**

Winter comes, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, rule no houses. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the wall. I am the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Winter's Watch, for this winter and all the ones to come.

Our order has existed since the dark times for one purpose. To guard the realms of men from the true Others and the barbarians who serve them. While Frostwing guards the shores to prevent their kind from leaving we will guard the beating heart of Northos itself. Forged from the wisdom of Brandon the Builder and the guidance of Lord Winter, we have stood firm for millennia against the Voice-of-Winter. But we have not always succeeded in our eternal mission.

Thrice in history, a time came when the the Winter's Watch was not prepared, not ready to guard the rest of men. The first of these was the Reign of the Night's King, when the Lord Commander of the Nightfort fell under the sway of that era's Night's Queen. The brothers under his command became little better than wights, forced to serve a frozen goddess. It was only with the braveness of Brandon the Breaker and Joruman the Free Folk King that the Others were driven back to their frozen wastes. But the consequences were severe. The Stark in Winterfell took the curse of the Otherbloods upon his line to protect all other men from the demons of winter. We shall not forget his sacrifice.

The second failure was the attack of the brothers Gendel and Gorne upon Northos, via the great tunnels dug near Stonedoor. Using this tunnel, the twin kings allowed hundreds of Wilding raiding parties past the Wall, passing under the domains of the Winter's Watch entirely. It is with great shame that I must admit our order did not discover the tunnels for five years. Once they discovered our order took a great vengeance on the kings who had mocked us. The tunnels were sealed at all exits, with stone and ice and blood. The brothers and their men were sealed inside for eternity.

The third failure came with the rise of the Horned King and the Destruction of Sable Hill. This great Mage used powers long thought forgotten to carve a hole in the Wall itself, allowing hordes of savages through to wreck havoc in Northos. The Winter's Watch was left reeling in the aftermath and if not for the bravery of the Umbers, much of the Kingdom could have been scourged. The Mage himself was cast down by the Wolf Lord and sealed in ice for eternity, as punishment for the lives he had taken.

We must not fail again. We are the guards of winter, the warriors of night. The wars between men shall not trouble us for our purpose has always been far greater. In life we shall serve as rangers, stewards or builders. In death our ashes shall refresh the barriers of the Wall and our blood shall strengthen its sides.

For the Wall must stand forever.

_Seven Hells for Seven Gods. Seven Gods for Seven Swords. Seven Swords for Seven Voices._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now begins the great edit.
> 
> I'll start work on Oberyn III in about a week.


	41. Oberyn III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You take the High Road and I'll take the Low Road!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 41**

Oberyn Martell

The Road to Qohor, the Flatlands - 9th Garthtide 299AC

  
The woman stood still upon the ridge, overlooking the red sandstone valley. Her brown hair waved as if in a slight breeze, the same thing happening with her blue woollen dress. Down in the valley, a small group of men were busy knocking down a tower and preparing five bodies for transportation to the north. One of the men, with brown hair and grey eyes was accompanied by a large direwolf.

"I expected you to be here, Mother Rhoyne" said a man's voice, deep and ancient like a great forest.

"Where else would I be but here, Wolf Lord" the woman replied, turning her head to gaze upon the old man walking towards her. "This land is my domain and what happens in it always concerns me." Her hands clutched at a bloody shawl, freshly dripping from earlier today.

"As Northos is mine" replied the man, "a fact that has caused us both a great deal of trouble." His brown eyes were fixed intently on one of the corpses, that of a young girl with a swollen stomach.

"Are you here to question why I did it?" asked the woman, turning back to the valley. Unbidden, a small snake slithered its way out of the grass and wrapped around her bare foot.

"No" he replied, "I know full well why you did it. I would likely have done the same, if it came to it. While I was content to allow the Targaryens to remain the rulers of the south before now, a restoration would bring nothing but chaos that I cannot afford. Events are moving, the day is almost upon us." Down in the valley the men were scurrying away from the tower, taking up positions behind the covered wagons. "Alyssa's promised to assist you with the Martells. We've both done worse, if it helps."

"They call me a mother" she said, "A bountiful parent, eternally kind and generous. This is such a small thing - painful and raw, but small. I know it shouldn't matter, I can feel that." She lifted up the sodden blanket to examine it closer. "She was so...young, and the baby even younger."

"Yes" he said, "Barely out of childhood herself. It's a cruel world when the young die and the old...continue."

"I flooded the babe's brain with water, snuffed it out before it had been lit" the woman said, letting the cloth fall to the ground. "It was...I...after everything..." She rubbed her forehead. "Do any of us deserve to be gods? Our actions might be better in the long term, but in the short term we are merciless - consuming life like a fire. Do we have the right?"

"Does anyone?" the man asked, "No, I think not. Not us, not the mortals, not the primordials. Perhaps no one has the right to decide who lives." He turned to face the woman, just as she turned back to him. A sad smile had grown on his face. "There was nothing kind about it, nothing good. _But Lyanna's Stark's child could not be allowed to live._ "

In the distance the tower collapsed.

And far to the east and many years later, Oberyn Martell woke up.

\----------------

I woke up covered in sweat, vainly trying to recall what I had been dreaming about. I remembered a tower - in the red mountains by the look of the landscape- with two people talking. But for the life of me, I couldn't remember what they were saying.

_"Do we have the right?"_

Nymeria and myself were camped in the region known as the Flatlands, partway on the road to Qohor. I had brought a wagon for the two of us to share, pulled by a large tawny stallion. I had resisted buying a cheap horse as I knew that regardless of how well it helped us to blend in, it would make the journey to Qohor much slower. And that was something I really didn't want. I disliked the idea of going to Qohor in the first place as the city wasn't referred to as the City of Sorcerers for any good reason. The legends of the dark mages who lived there and their god the Black Goat were enough to make any man shiver.

_Like a painting of bloodletting and sacrifice._

The promise of answers didn't help much as I couldn't see how going there would give me the answers to any question, even with the aid of magic. If I hadn't been directly asked I would have refused, as I wouldn't want to put Nymeria in so much danger.

_But how could I refuse her again, after all she's been through..._

\----------------

The woman had appeared suddenly in my apartment at the crude inn housing us while we spied on the Targaryens. She was dressed in a dark brown cloak, wrapped tightly around her body. Her shadowed face peaked out at me from underneath the hood.

"You are Oberyn Martell?" she asked in broken common tongue, "Are you Oberyn Martell?" She was wearing a white bone mask to disguise her features, similar to the ones worn by Green Men. I could see a pair of heavily scarred lips peaking out from underneath.

"I am" I replied, "Who is asking? If the Targaryens had discovered our presence, Nymeria and I would have to leave immediately. Even without the Old Blood present, Illyrio Mopatis - 'the Cheesemonger' - was still far too powerful in the City of Pentos.

_I will be glad when we can leave._

"I am Ashara" the woman replied (a strange name for these parts, perhaps Dayne-ish ancestry?), "My mistress would like to speak with you, milord."

_Your 'mistress', hmm..._

"Who is she to desire a visit from me?" I asked. I could not waste my time on random women enchanted by my appearance - unless they were very beautiful, that is. And even now I should probably refuse to make sure our identities weren't discovered.

"The Lady of the Waves, milord" the woman replied, "and to prove her identity she asked me to tell you two words - Elia and Dorea." Her daughters...and mine.

"Take me to her."

\----------------

I was roused from my memories by a loud curse from inside the wagon. I poked my head inside and spotted Nymeria clutching and rubbing her foot.

"Anything wrong?" I asked.

_By all the Seven, please don't be that time of the month..._

"I was trying to open the stupid chest I got in Pentos" she complained, "You know, the one with all the spell books." Yes, I remembered. I had advised her not to bother with it, as spells were notoriously difficult to learn if you weren't of the right bloodline. For instance, anyone could learn a spell to summon fire but only the Targaryens would have an easy time of it. And of course, that was assuming the books were real in the first place and weren't just the fakes that often turned up in the Shadow City markets.

"Let me have a look" I sighed, before reaching over to pull the chest towards me. It was sealed shut with a heavy iron clasp, crudely built and slightly rusted with age. "If I twist the lid slightly - like this - then pull...done it!" The chest opened up to reveal a set of five books, a few scrolls and several jars filled with liquids. Nymeria beamed.

"Thank you father" she said, reaching onto the bed beside her to grab something. A large book was revealed from underneath her straw pillow, which she swapped with another one of the five - now, six books. I picked up the one she had finished with to take a closer look.

"Why are you looking at curses?" I asked.

"To get revenge on our enemies, why else?" she replied absentmindedly, not looking up from her new book. The one in my arms read 'How to Curse your Foes and Control your Fate' by Elwood Morrow. It was not a name I recognised and the sketch on the front cover - a man shrivelling in a iron cage - did not seem familiar either. "I wanted to do a Garin the Great" she said shrugging, "He cursed the dragons, I would curse the lions."

_In his case it was a death curse for himself as well..._

Garin the Great was one of the great heroes of those descended from the Rhoyne. He had been one of the many princes of the original Rhoynar folk and had led his people against the tyranny of the Valyrian Freehold during the last of many Rhoynar wars. The tales said that after his final defeat, he was locked in a golden cage by his captors - destined to be taken back to the City of Valyria itself for execution. But in a final act of defiance he had opened his own veins and used the blood to fuel a death curse for the Valyrian Freehold itself. The Doom of Valyria.

_But we do not need to sacrifice our own lives. A spear in my hand will be much better than any power of magic._

"I think we should be cautious first of all" I said, "We have all the time to destroy them, we don't need a curse to achieve that."

_Especially with what I know now._

Looking out of the wagon at the long plains of the Flatlands, I could see the orange sun rising high in the sky. It's rays made the grass glow a deep red, the colour stretching to cover the distant hills. "Ready yourself, we'll be heading off soon."

_To Qohor and to the answers._

\----------------

I had followed the woman into a quieter part of Pentos occupied by towering buildings, crowding onto the small winding street threading between them. The woman's robes fluttered in the slight breeze, exposing feet covered by heavy brown boots. I didn't recognise the area and found the lack of people or noise unnerving. It was far too quiet and I was glad for the spear at my side.

"In here, milord" she said, gesturing to a blue painted door set into one of the buildings, windowless and unremarkable.

_It certainly feels like a trap..._

I didn't believe the Sea Queen would want to harm me - we'd shared too much for that - but meeting me here, in a house like this...a shiver of unease was making its way up my spine, even here in the warmth of Pentos. There was definitely something wrong about this entire situation. As I stepped into the house the temperature dramatically dropped, and the sandy air that plagued much of Pentos (as well as Dorne for that matter) vanished - replaced by a cold sea breeze. Behind me the woman closed the door and slid a heavy iron bolt across.

"So we are not overheard, milord." She reached up and pulled down her heavy brown hood, exposing the heavily scarred features. That face...the brown eyes, the brown hair, the slanted features, that smile - it couldn't be!

"Elia?" I breathed. She couldn't be here, she had died in King's Landing over a decade ago.

"Hello Oberyn" she said, her face glowing in the light of a candle. "I've missed you."

_But..._

"You can't be here" I cried, stepping away from this woman with the face of my sister. "This is a trick - a trap! Elia is dead - you can't be alive!" But the woman only smiled and grabbed one of my hands, pressing it to her face - gruesomely scarred but still with the same sweetness present in every feature.

"It is me Oberyn" she said, "Believe me, I know it makes little sense but just let me explain." She guided me over to a small table already set with a pair of cheap wooden stools. "You've got older" Elia said blinking rapidly, "A few more grey hairs than before."

"You haven't aged a day since I last saw you" I replied, "Elia, how can you be alive?" She wrung her hands.

"It was the final days of the war, brother" she began, "Tywin Lannister was attacking the city and I had hidden myself, Aegon and Rhaenys in the Maidenvault where I hoped that we would be safe." She grimaced. "Needless to say, we weren't and before I knew it Lannister men were pouring into the keep, with orders to kill us."

_And some men specifically..._

"I know this part of the story" I said, "but what happened next?"

"Mother Rhoyne, Oberyn" Elia said, "Mother Rhoyne appeared and offered to save my babies."

"But Aegon and Rhaenys were found dead! As were you."

"The magic she offered to perform would send us from our original bodies and create new ones for us. Our old selves would die but our new selves would live. Live as smallfolk yes, but still be alive and safe from Baratheon rebels or Targaryen loyalists!"

_It sounds too good to be true...and you stand before me now as your old self._

"You say would" I questioned. Elia's face fell and her mouth twisted into a frown.

"Yes I did" she stated, "the ritual succeeded with Aegon, the baby they killed was a golem, nothing more. His soul was sent into a dying smallfolk child, somewhere in Westeros." Her eyes were wet. "I don't know what happened to him and I imagine he's impossible to find now but he lived." I clasped one of her hands to try and offer some comfort. "Rhaenys though was too frightened. She ran away before Mother Rhoyne could do the magic and in the chaos I was separated from her. I think she was running to her father's chambers as she always would when sacred by something." She was overcome by emotion then and needed to take a few gasps. She dabbed at her eyes with a dirty cloth.

"And then?" I asked.

"I was cut down by a Clegane as I ran after Rhaenys. Mother Rhoyne was able to stick my soul into a golem of it's own but I don't age, don't grow or feel like this. I just...continue." She grimaced at me. "I didn't want you to see me like this, that's why I've stayed hidden all this time." She smiled sadly and said "I knew you or Doran wouldn't be able to bear seeing me like this."

"I wouldn't care" I replied, "you are my sister - nothing else matters. You are Rhaenys could stay in Sunspear regardless of what you looked like. Doran wouldn't dream of arguing." A thought struck me then. "Where...is Rhaenys?"

"That's just the issue" Elia replied, "I don't know. Mother Rhoyne doesn't know. She's still alive but something is hiding her - my daughter- from us, some other power."

"Another god?" I queried.

"Perhaps, but which one" Elia said, "and why? Why hide a little girl - even a Targaryen - from her mother?"

"We have to find her" I stated, "I can begin a search throughout the other kingdoms. No one in Dorne was there to abduct her so it has to one of the rebels or a targ loyalist. The vale is probably out as they didn't arrive in King's Landing for days but a Westerland house could have..."

"There isn't a point Oberyn" Elia cut in, "Rhaenys could be anywhere in Westeros, Essos or Northos by now. We can't find her by mortal means."

"Then what do we do?!" I almost shouted, "We can't just abandon your daughter!"

"We won't" Elia hissed, "That's why I've finally shown myself to you. In Qohor there is a mirror, taken from Andalos during the Red Wars. If told a name, it can find that person anywhere in the world. The priests of the Black Goat use it to spy on their enemies."

"And if we had it..." I mused.

"We could find Rhaenys" my sister said, "and that, Oberyn is what I need your help with."

 

**Extras 41:**

**Extract from 'Histories of the Kings Volume 8: Daeron the Young Dragon' by King's Historian Maegar**

**The War between the Gods**

I have already addressed the fall of Daeron so I will only provide a brief summary as a reminder here. 161 years after Aegon's Conquest, in the month of Rhaenion (which is ironic, considering how Queen Rhaenys also met her end in Dorne), the forces of King Daeron were slain under a peace banner by the rebel forces of both Eastern and Western Dorne. The human response to this action is discussed in 'Baelor the Mad', so that should be the resource for those primarily interested in that information.

This chapter instead is dedicated to the calamitous godly war that occurred between those determined to punish those who had broken the truce and those who deemed it necessary. This war lasted three terrible years, during which much of the south of Westeros was scourged and sundered. Despite the best prayers of thousands of mortals (including Baelor the Mad) the Gods' wrath seemed endless.

But first a bit of ancient history. The concept of guest right has existed in Westeros for centuries, dating back to before the Long Night and the rise of the current pantheon of the Old Gods. In Essos however, the concept is relatively new and frequently ignored. Take Volantis for instance, where a man is just as likely to be murdered by his guests as he is by enemies outside his home. This extends to the lands around the River Rhoyne and the peoples that lived there.

And their gods.

Mother Rhoyne and the Rhoynar descendents who worshipped her had never embraced the custom of guest right as the Andals had, even after several centuries of Westeros life. While they would usually resist drawing swords under a roof and respect bread and salt (with exceptions: see the Black Dinner and the Scouring of the Brothels), the practice of truces and surrenders were regarded as 'optional'. If necessary a truce could be broken to lead into a sneak attack and a surrender only needed to last until the enemy's back was turned.

That is not to say that all Dornish followed this system, as many of the stony Dornishmen followed a code more in line with a normal Westerosi's. The Yronwoods in particular frowned upon the actions taken, so much that the relationship between the two sides of Dorne was frosty for a long period of years, only healed following the War of the Faiths and the cataclysmic events of that period. No violence broke out between the two kingdoms (quite possibly because of the damage wrought by Daeron) but the wounds were cut deep.

Mother Rhoyne though had been deeply wounded by the other deities' reluctance to intervene in her people's struggle against the Targaryens. An already existing dislike of them due to their Valyrian ancestry was deepened and in turn conductive to drive a wedge between her, the Valyrian Pantheon (who supported the Targaryens) and the other pantheons. While usually the relationship would have repaired itself quickly as gods do not tend to waste time on relatively short mortal affairs, the death of Daeron I drove a wedge into an already tense situation.

The southern Old Gods (the Storm King and the Stone God) and the Seven were quick to move to the purpose of punishing those responsible. If this had been any kingdom other than Dorne at that time, they would likely have succeeded. But no. Angered by the indignities heaped upon her people, Mother Rhoyne intervened, sheltering the truce-makers where the other deities could not reach. And for the only time in recent history, the Gods plunged into open war.

**To be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned to the claim the trophy of most unexpected murderer of Jon Snow in a non crack fanfic!
> 
> Blood for the Blood Goat! Skulls for the Skull Throne!


	42. Brynden III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death in the Clouds

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 41**

Brynden Justman

The Bloody Gate, Border-Fortress of the Vale - 17th Garthtide 299AC

  
_"Kakstark with his cooking pot and Gardener with his spade! Marched down the River Road and smacked the lion in the face!"_

The levies sang with gusto as they marched through the great gate of the fortress. The Bloody Gate was large enough for ten of them to walk astride, its great barred doors made of Bloodoak shipped from Sothoryos - a great expense but worth it, as now the door would be difficult for even a dragon to destroy; bloodoak being impervious to nearly all damage. The great trees needed to be, to fight off the massive apes that stalked the dark jungles. Now the great black doors stood wide as the levies in their leather armour marched through them, preparing for the long march to the south. Overhead flew many of their commanders, most riding mountain wyverns interspersed with the occasional griffin. Usually I would have been up in the sky as well to oversee the troops, but unfortunately Fleetfoot and I were required to oversee an irritating ceremony involving exchanging of the flags - or some such nonsense.

_At least I don't have to be directly involved with it, being from the Riverlands instead of the Vale._

It had been too long since I had seen my home of Oldstones, even with the memory of my arguments with Hoster hanging over my head like an axe. I hadn't entered the Riverlands or seen any of my family apart from Lysa for over five years, separated by woods and valleys - and in Catelyn's case a great sea. And now of course, it was too late, far too late for my brother was dead - murdered by the Baratheons of all people - and dear Lysa dead as well.

_Catelyn and Edmure are the only relatives I have left._

\----------------

"Lysa! Lysa!" I shouted as I burst into the Eyrie, not even bothering to check on my griffin in the hurry. The flight from Runestone had taken forever, even with Fleetfoot straining himself to travel as fast as possible. The blue signal must have been a mistake, Lysa was ill, yes but not critically. Not in anyway that could challenge her survival!

_Robert can't be dead either, his childhood problems are nonexistent now! He hasn't been ill in years!_

It must have been a mistake, it must have been! But as a raced the hallways were silent and the servants bowed their heads as I raced past. "Lysa..."

_It's too soon...damn prophecies!_

The door to Lysa's chambers was already open. My view of her bed was blocked by two figures, one of them Maester Coleman, the other my nephew Robert. At the very least the latter was okay then, though that did not bode well for Lysa - if indeed the light hadn't been a mistake.

"Uncle Brynden..." began Robert upon seeing me, but any other words he might have had were lost as I moved around them and gazed upon the woman lying dead before us. Lysa's eyes were closed, her hair draped softly around her. Aside from her utterly pale skin, I could have imagined she was still sleeping. She hadn't been this peaceful in months. But by the lack of movement, by her chest remaining...still...I could tell she was dead.

_No! No, not like this!_

"What have you done!" I demanded as I grabbed Coleman by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Robert moved to intercept but I ignored him, focused on this man who had murdered my niece! "What did you do to her! You said she would be fine!"

"My...Lord..." the Maester choked out. His face was slowly turning red, deprived of lifeblood by my grasp.

_Good. Let him choke._

"Uncle let him go!" Robert shouted, "He can't breathe!"

"He murdered your mother!" I roared, "My niece!"

"He hasn't!" Robert cried, grabbing my arm and trying to force me to let Coleman go. "Maester Coleman wasn't anywhere near when I discovered mother dead; he was tending to the ravens on the other side of the castle! Release him!" Faced with the words of my nephew I removed my hand, letting the Maester collapse to the ground. Coleman hurriedly sucked in massive gulps of air, one hand clasping at his sore neck.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to calm myself down from the unnatural fury that had filled me upon seeing Lysa's corpse.

_It was not fitting behaviour for a knight._

"I came in to check on mother about one and a half hours after you left for Runestone" Robert said, "I had finished my books for the day and wanted to ensure everything was okay before I went to order an evening meal."

"As Lord Robert said, I was tending to the ravens" Maester Coleman said, attempting to pull himself to his feet for a few moments, before giving up. "I only discovered that something was wrong when a messenger arrived to bring me to Lady Lysa's chambers."

"She was lying like this when I arrived - not breathing - with her medicine bottle empty on the desk" Robert said, "When I realised that...well, I called for Coleman and if you hadn't been in Runestone I would have asked for you as well." The Maester frowned.

"I don't remember the bottle being empty when I left you alone here" he said, picking up the container left on Lysa's bedside table.

"Could someone have taken the medicine?" I asked.

"Perhaps, or fed it to Lysa" the Maester answered, "Too much Milk of the Poopy can be dangerous to the body." I barely spotted Robert's eyes flash.

"The bottle was definitely empty when I left" Robert said, "and I was the only one in here Maester. We spoke about buying some more, before you left."

"We did, my Lord" the Maester nodded from the floor, "I must be mistaken then. Forgive an old man's fading mind."

"Of course." Robert turned back to his deceased mother. "The death is a horrible shock; my mother was taken long before her time." He wheeled around suddenly. "But I will not allow us to disgrace her by looking for someone to blame. We all knew mother was ill, as she had been since my father's passing." He smiled sadly. "In truth, I have dreaded this day since I returned from my fostering."

_As have I._

\----------------

Thankfully the ceremony did not last too much longer, allowing me to escape on Fleetfoot. As we soared over the strength of the Vale with the border to the Riverlands laid out before us, I pondered again the events that had led to the raising of the levies. Lysa had been laid to rest not three days later, the funeral boat being quickly assembled and set adrift on the small mountain stream about a league north of the Eyrie.

_We should have done it near Oldstones, the Justman's true home._

Robert had insisted though, wanting to see his mother put to an appropriate rest without delay, despite my objections. He had been spending less and less time with me recently, not putting as much weight in my opinions as before. Most of the day he would usually seal himself up in his father's old solar, doing gods knows what and only coming down for meals.

_And he always looks tired and worn, always dressed heavily in cloak and gloves._

I worried that he was suffering a relapse of his childhood illnesses, the shaking fits and weakness that had only been cured by the expensive healing springs of Dorne. But if that was the case, why was he still improving in the training yard? Why was he able to focus on his duty as Lord Paramount so much?

_Has Lysa's death had a bigger impact than he's letting on?_

The other thing on my mind - of course - was the coming war. I was sure it would come to that, even without Tywin Lannister's love of bloodshed. The man would not let an insult to his family stand, no matter who had to fall for it to happen.

_But I must avenge Hoster regardless. He would have done the same for me, even with our disagreements._

It had been a letter from Edmure that had informed us first of his father's murder, the letter from King's Landing either being lost, or more likely not sent at all. Robert had quickly call for a muster of the available Vale forces - aside from the ones needed to protect the borders - to join up with Edmure's army in the Riverlands. The boy himself had insisted on coming, despite my advice that he should stay home - off the battlefield.

_"I'm not a craven Uncle!"_

_"No, but you are a child!"_

"I just hope Edmure has a little more sense" I muttered, as myself and the griffin soured out under the midday sky.

To the south and to war.

 

**Extras 41:**

**Extract from 'Histories of the Kings Volume 8: Daeron the Young Dragon' by King's Historian Maegar**

**The War between the Gods**

Due to both the difficulty in recording a godly war and the long period it covers (Roughly Hugortide 161AC - Garthtide 164AC), I have resorted to chronicling this conflict through only the significant battles of the war. Many small skirmishes have been ignored due to either a lack of information or general unimportance when the full scale is taken into account.

**The Twin Onslaughts**

The first conflict of the war occurred with a twin assault down the Boneway and the Prince's Pass (then called the Wyvern's Way due to a colony of Sothoryosi Wyverns that had settled there). It is believed that the Storm King, the Father and the Maiden were responsible for the Boneway assault, while the Stone God, the Warrior and the Smith led the attack on the Prince's Pass.

Of course, it is difficult to tell anything when the only records of the battle describe massive dust storms, frequent lightning strikes, terrible earthquakes and - because Mother Rhoyne is a river goddess - enormous geysers of water. The battle raged over a period of six days, during which land travel between the kingdoms was impossible. The castles of Kingsgrave and Wyl were heavily damaged, half of the latter collapsing into a previously unknown (or perhaps non-existent) underground cavern. Vulture's Roost and Blackmont only narrowly escaped the onslaught. Magical spells and artefacts throughout both parts of Dorne, the Reach and the Stormlands behaved erratically and at times dangerously to the user, as they would for the rest of the war. Ironically, this occurrence eventually benefited some groups, including the Maester Order as many artefacts were in Myr for repair when Oldtown was attacked by a Sea Dragon.

From what is known, the popular theory is that the Old Gods and the Seven were attempting to expand their respective spheres of influence into Dorne, weakening Mother Rhoyne and forcing her to give up the truce-breakers. It is perhaps unfortunate that the attempt failed, as a successful assault would have certainly have prevented the rest of the war and the cataclysmic final battle. But Mother Rhoyne succeeded in forcing the other gods out of her territory and so the conflict continued.

By this point the gods had fallen into three sides in the war. On the side of Mother Rhoyne was Mother Rhoyne herself, the Mother, Vhaegal and the Prince. Against her was ranged the Storm King, the Stone God, the Father, the Warrior, the Smith, the Maiden, Balerion and Meraxes. Staying neutral were the Crone, the Stranger and all the far Northern Gods. Whatever reasons were behind some of the sidings are unknown as almost all the gods have steadfastly refused to talk about the war.

But the results are there for all to see.

**The Fall of Ghaston Grey and Starfall**

Most of the war was actually fairly peaceful, interspersed with with brief periods of violence as one of the invaders attempted to force their way into Dorne. Aside from the constant magical fluctuations it would have been at times difficult to have known there was a conflict actually ongoing. Maester Cressen has suggested the description of 'Cold War' for such a conflict, a name I am inclined to agree with.

But there was no true peace in the south. Frequent attacks were made on the northern borders, so much so that Western Dorne experienced a notable migration to the far south. The two best known of these attacks are the Fall of Ghaston Grey (the Dornish prison island) and Starfall, seat of House Dayne. The former was an attack by the Warrior, who summoned a gigantic wave to crash down on the island destroying the population and any worshippers of Mother Rhoyne. The latter was led by the Stone God and the Smith who combined their talents to create a fiery chasm to seal the castle of from the rest of Dorne. The scars from both attacks are still visible to this day, though Starfall has turned their one into a defensive moat.

The reader will probably be wondering now about why I have not mentioned any attacks started by Mother Rhoyne in revenge for the suffering of her people. Was she determined to not force suffering on more people, or did she perhaps not have the opportunity? The truth as the Historian Order knows it tends to lean towards the latter interpretation. The constant attacks on Dorne were having a wearing effect on all the gods, weakening them and in some respects exhausting their powers.

But while the other gods had others to back them up, Mother Rhoyne and her few allies were being increasingly worn down. Her powers could not extend far enough for an attack on Dorne's neighbors, especially after the loss of Tullmon the Whale who abandoned the kingdoms during this period, apparently due to grief over the bloodshed. This is not to say that the others did not lose companions as well, as both the rat Whispers and the ravens Dawn and Dusk deserted their companions as well, seeking refuge in the Vale and Andalos respectively. Trade between the kingdoms slowed to a trickle.

But still the gods raged against each other.

**Scouring of Godsgrace**

The end of the war began with a solitary mission undertaken by the Crone, who (as she confirmed decades later) had finally decided to break her neutrality and put an end to the conflict. Her plan to achieve this was to remove the problem at its source - the surviving truce-breakers. While several of the men had died since Daeron's death (from both attacks by other men or an angry god) the twenty of them still surviving had hidden themselves in the town of Godsgrace, a settlement near the centre of Eastern Dorne and so hopefully out of the sight of any avenging deities. Or at least that was Mother Rhoyne's plan.

The Crone is often called the wisest of all the gods and her plan to end the war is often quoted by septons attempting to prove this. She knew that the constant attacks were weakening all the gods, even those who had stayed steadfastly neutral. She knew as well that Mother Rhoyne's desire was to protect her 'children' and that all the gods, even her wanted an excuse to end the war. And so, quietly she sent a few agents - whose names have been lost to history - deep into the desert where, once arriving at Godsgrace they poisoned the town's water supplies.

The poison they had used would only affect the Crone's chosen targets after a few days, both allowing for plausible deniability and for her agents to escape. It was hoped that limiting the deaths to only the culprits - and thus not adding to the bloodshed of the Dornish people - would keep Mother Rhoyne reasonable and allow for a peaceful resolution.

It didn't.

There are many names for the furious finale of this war. The Battle of the Dornish Sea. The Day of Judgment. The Twilight of the Gods. The Great Apocalypse.

But the most well known is...

**The Battle of the Maelstrom**

By their very nature, the gods are not good at compromising to solve an argument. Many unfortunate times the conflict has only be ended by a great catastrophe, causing both sides to retreat to prevent further damage. This has been shown multiple times throughout our long history, with such events as the Battle of Hugor's Hill, the Scouring of the Vale and the Day of the Two Suns. And the end of this war was no different.

Contrary to the Crone's expectations, Mother Rhoyne was incensed by the 'dishonourable' attack on her children - especially since it seemed both her entire campaign and the suffering of the Dornish people had been for nothing. The defection of her allies to the other side following the incident in Godsgrace had not helped in the slightest.

But as the Crone had predicted she was patient. Patient to gain her revenge. Over the course of two months Mother Rhoyne regathered her strength, weakened after three straight years of war. The other gods were doing the same, though in their cases no great urgency was believed to be required. Obviously they were wrong.

The goddess's target was in the domain on the Storm King, ringleader of the opposing side in the war. Her specific targets were the castles and towns on the southern coast of the Stormlands, many of which were built upon the Sky Shard the god used as temples. She didn't plan to take the territory, only to damage it as her, her people and Dorne itself had been. It was only by a fluke she didn't succeed.

The rat Whispers (2nd companion of the Stone God) had returned to the Westerlands from the Vale after sitting out the entire war. Whether or not his return was especially for this reason is unknown, but what is known is that he quickly warned the Stone God - who in turn warned the Storm King - of Mother Rhoyne's plans. Infuriated, the two gods journeyed to the centre of the Sea of Dorne to meet their opponent away from human contact. It is unknown what they said to one another, as the gods had changed the sea's currents to keep eavesdroppers away. Did they try to come to peaceful terms? Did they threaten each other?

In the end it doesn't matter, for with a great thundering of wind the ocean itself began to swirl around the gods. All of them had taken human forms for the battle: the Storm King wielding a great warhammer, the Stone God a pickaxe, Mother Rhoyne a spear. Lightning and massive dust clouds swirled around the combatants as they fought in the eye of the storm, moving so fast that the few surviving witnesses described them as 'comets' or 'shooting stars'. And all the while, the storm cloud around the godly battle grew larger and larger. Such a storm is difficult to comprehend for anyone fortunate enough to have not witnessed one. The cloud was comparable in size to the island of Tarth and accompanied by a gigantic whirlpool just as large. Anything caught in the storm was either lifted clean out of the water and flung by high speed winds (sometimes for miles), or sucked under the surface of the ocean to the dark depths. The occurrence was so unique and deadly that the Maester Order assigned the storm the title of 'Maelstrom', from the Ibbenese 'Maelstri Leviath' - meaning 'Leviathan's Great Storm'. A title the storm certainly deserved.

And it was not made any better by the arrival of the other gods. There was no great choir of worshippers to announce the arrival of the Seven (despite what the Septons say), nor for that matter the Valyrian Pantheon - only cracks of thunder and even more furious winds. The maelstrom expanded further, stretching to a point where the islands of Ghaston Grey, Godsgrief and Sharktooth were themselves slowly being sucked under the waves. Massive waves whipped the coasts of the Stormlands and Dorne for hours, Weeping Town's small port being flooded by a large one. And still the gods kept fighting.

But at the centre of the storm, something was forming. Born of the rage of the divine and the fury of the heavens, a cold green light was being forged by the deities attacks. Stretching perhaps a mile in diameter, the sphere of green energy grew high up in the eye of the storm, glowing stronger and brighter with each passing second.

And for a moment the world went still.

In the Citadel at Oldtown the glass candles - artifacts to measure fluctuations in magic - exploded. On the island of Dragonstone, the great volcano erupted once more in a cloud of dust and ash. In the Great Sept of Baelor the holy statues plunged from the plinths. The Korespeak rumbled. The Ice Dragon Frostwing paused in midair. The Wolf Lord, the Sea Queen and the Drowned God stood to attention. The Salt Wife stirred in her eternal slumber.

And the sphere of energy plunged into the ocean and erupted. In an instant the maestrom was forced away, its fury replaced by an even greater threat. The shockwaves blasted the waters away from where the sphere had struck along with the gods themselves - except the Warrior, Vhaegal and the Prince who being too close to the eruption were consumed and disintegrated in a second. A massive earthquake struck the land, the shaking reaching as far as Tumbleton to the north. And the ocean, forced back by the shockwave expelled itself onto the land in massive waves. The list of damage done by the explosion is too long to list here, but among the ruined settlements were the castles of Wyl, The Tor, Ghost Hill, Blackhaven and Stonehelm; the Weeping town; the islands of Bloodstone and Estermont and the Free City of Tyrosh. Where once was prosperity and life, now lay nothing but sodden and devastated ground.

The war had ended. But at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I've been hit with the triple whammy of writer's block, long rehearsals and new kittens!
> 
> They're called Asian and Edmund by the way.


	43. Joanna III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know the water's sweet, but blood is thicker...

**A High Fantasy Planetos**

Joanna Snow

Greywater Isle, off the Coast of Northos: Site of the Pact of Ice and Fire - 20th Garthtide 299AC

 

The Icebreaker was the pride of the Manderly's Navy. Carved from Ironwood brought from House Forrester, painted with varnish brought from the Slashstarks and built by a team of dozens in the port at the mouth of the White Knife. It was an honour for Robyn to be granted use of it as her flagship, even with her new crown and title. It was even more of a honour that Wendel Manderly, eldest son of Lord Wyman (who had chosen to stay in White Harbour due to his health) would be sharing the ship with us.

_If only we could appreciate it more._

I dimly remembered when father had gone off to fight against the Ironborn; how weary he had been both before and afterwards. The Southern Maesters said that war could have a ageing effect on the mind and body of those who had seen too much. But I had been sceptical, guessed that it was just them covering up some rogue magic - as I knew Luwin had needed to do on a few occasions. After recent events however...I felt like I had aged decades in a few weeks.

_Sansa. Arya._

Father might be dead now but my sisters could still be alive, considering the Baratheons' failure to mention them in their letter. If there was a chance to find them, we would have to take it. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives, after all. And we had already split up the pack enough recently. Lady Catelyn and Rickard would be staying in Winterfell, safely out of harms way in the heart of Northos while Robyn and I headed south. Cregan had nearly been left behind as well, only finally being brought with us due to Robyn's fear of him growing up without any parents. Domeric's death was still hanging over everything, even nearly a year later.

_But I still don't think that bringing a baby near a battlefield was wise._

I stood at the front of the ship as it drifted slowly into the small harbour on Greywater Isle. True to it's name, the island seemed devoid of colour - even the willow trees seeming pale and miserable. The castle of Greywater had been built at the very centre, being a squat grey fortress of three towers positioned around a large courtyard. The Reed crest - a glorious Ice Dragon - was imprinted on everything from the castle's flags, to the crates ready to be loaded onto the ships for the journey south. The Reeds - named after a medicinal plant found on their island - had never been a rich house; even with their position on the great Northern trade roots. Oldstones and Freyport had seen to that. Still they were proud and formidable, which was partly why Robyn had chosen to stop at Greywater before proceeding to Oldstones. Ideally we would have stopped at several of the Northern Houses before heading south, but due to lack of time we had to limit ourselves to just the Cerwyns and the Manderlys.

_Pity. I would have liked to see the Mormonts at least, even if Bear Island is far away. I miss Dacey._

Several of the southern houses would be traveling with us directly, while the others had to use their own ports - or those of their neighbors - for the journey to the Riverlands coast. For example, the Tallharts of Parivel would be using the port of Westwatch, seat of House Westfist.

_But honestly, I had expected to be more impressed with the location._

Perhaps it was the reason for our visit souring my mood, but I was...put out by the actual island. From father's stories of his friend Howland Reed and the legends history had attached to this place - I had been visualising more than this drab grey rock. Some sort of forbidden kingdom was what I had imagined and to be proven wrong...well. I could see a small crowd gathered down in the harbour, surrounding a short cloaked figure. Could that be Lord Howland?

_Seven Hells, the rumours about the male Reeds being tiny were true!_

"I wonder if Meera's around" said Robyn, as she leaned on the railing next to me. She wore a traveling dress similar to mine - though notably more ornate - with a silver diadem nestled in her tied back hair. The diadem had only been forged once the news of father's death reached us, Robyn not willing to take either the true crown - locked securely in a deep vault of Winterfell - or steal her mother's. It was a simple thing, entwining silver bands around 3 winter roses.

_The blacksmith insisted it was based on our grandmother's crown._

"If she was elsewhere her father would have called her back for this" I replied. Meera had warded at Winterfell for a few years following the Greyjoy Rebellion, before her father had called her back following her mother's death from illness. While we still exchanged letters - as I knew Robyn had been pressured into doing with Cassana Baratheon - we hadn't spoken face to face in two years now. Speaking in person would be one good thing about this trip at least. "How did the meeting go?"

"Same as ever" Robyn muttered, blue eyes glinting. "My goodfather continues to be a sodden turd." My sister had never gotten on well with Roose Bolton, her love for Domeric not being extended to his father. Truth be told, I agreed as the man - while unfailingly polite and respectful - had always been cold and critical, filled with a cruelty bubbling just beneath his skin.

_And that was before Domeric's murder..._

In a way it was understandable, his hatred of our family and Robyn in particular. One way or another, involvement with her had led to the death of both his sons - one directly. Combined with the rumoured 'injury' he had taken in the fall of Pyke - a mission taken under my father's command - he did have legitimate cause to despise us. But at the same time, Robyn's son was the only hope for his line to continue, so he could not do anything to harm us; even if he was responsible for the rumours about Cregan's parentage.

_It does strike me as foolish though, actively sabotaging his own grandson's claim out of spite. Does he not want House Bolton to continue?_

"Don't let it bother you" I said, "The man's an arsehole, but a harmless one." It must have been the only reason father hadn't moved against Lord Bolton himself, considering the man's attitude.

"At least Cregan wasn't around to hear him" Robyn sighed, leaning further into the railing. "He always cries when Roose is near him, so I've had to leave him in my cabin for the entire time." That might be the seasickness admittedly.

"Are you sure bringing him was..."

"We've had this discussion Jo" Robyn interrupted, "I won't leave him alone in Winterfell, not with me in the south. I wouldn't be able to get back in time if...something were to happen."

"He's past the age of greatest danger" I reminded her, "and besides which - he's an Otherblood. The cold will not harm him."

"But a illness, food poisoning, a careless nurse? I won't let another of my family die without me! I would have taken mother and Rickard south if we didn't need a Stark in Winterfell."

_But is that worth bringing them to a battlefield? The south is savage to Northerners, ask Aunt Lyanna!_

Despite the thoughts in my head, I stayed silent. Robyn could be endlessly stubborn when she was stressed - though to be honest, so could everyone in the family. Even Bran before...

The clang of the gangplank being lowered startled the two of us out of our thoughts. I straightened and whistled for Ghost, who had spent the journey in a onboard kennel after coming down with sea sickness. The white direwolf bounded towards the two of us, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. Robyn's direwolf Grey Wind followed him, as did Brandon's former pet Winter.

"Best get going then" Robyn said, stroking the top of her direwolf's head - even as I crouched down to rub Ghost's stomach. "We mustn't keep the Reeds waiting." As we walked towards the gangplank, a series of guards formed up behind us; along with a few who rushed down the plank to protect against a surprise assault. Even in friendly territory, we could never be too careful.

_Not that anyone in Northos would dare to break a truce, or even Guest Right!_

The short cloaked figure stepped forward. "Your Grace, Princess Joanna - welcome to Greywater Isle." His voice was mellow, enough so that I was subconsciously relaxed by his presence. This was reflected in his warm green eyes and thinning brown hair, some of it intertwined with glass beads.

"Thank you my Lord Reed" Robyn replied, Grey Wind peaking out from behind her dress. "It is a honour to be received by you in person." The man's smile grew wider.

"I am not yet old enough to require my children to perform all my duties for me." He gestured behind him to two figures; one a short cloaked boy - Willem Reed - and a taller girl - Meera. "If only the reason for our meeting was not as dark as it is."

"If only" Robyn agreed.

\----------------

It was several hours later that Lord Howland found me on the western battlements of his fort, staring glumly into the distance. While I was allowed to attend the war councils and Robyn would be pleased to have me there, we both knew that her lords would not appreciate my presence.

_After all, I am only a bastard with no lands of my own, regardless of whatever honours and titles I am given._

"Would you mind some company princess?" he asked as he walked up the last few steps, cane clinking on the hard stone floor.

"Of course not, my Lord" I replied, even if I would preferred to be alone. It would not do to upset our host. I didn't move my gaze however, my eyes still intently scanning the horizon. I could see a small dark island in the distance, shadowed in the evening twilight with only minor details being visible.

"We call it the Roost" Lord Howland said, joining me in peering at the horizon.

"You call what...?"

"The island, in the dark distance" he replied, "We call it the Roost, for that is where Lord Frostwing makes his home." The Ice Dragon that guards the shores of Northos. My family had long respected him, though admittedly to a lesser extent than the Wolf Lord. I knew some of the southern houses worshipped him heavily however and the Reed flag was a dragon.

"Can gods have a home?" I asked, mulling over the answer myself. The Seven had always been said to make their thrones in a heaven and the Valyrians on a mountain summit, but I had never heard of an Old God having a home - only a protectorate.

"Only Frostwing" Howland replied, "You see, unlike any of the other gods Lord Frostwing passed directly into worship while he was still alive. He lived for at least another two centuries after the Long Night before he truly ascended." He peered harder into the distance. "On a clear night - yes, can you see that white smudge near the centre of the island." He pointed towards a specific part of the rock.

"Yes...I think so."

"That is his tail poking out of the cave where he keeps his hoard" Lord Reed said, "As the legend goes, if you manage to climb onto the tail while he is sleeping; Lord Frostwing will fly you anywhere in the world."

"Has anyone tried?" I asked. Such a power would be worth...I tried to think of a suitable amount...a lot.

"No one sane" he laughed, "The Lord doesn't take kindly to trespassers, he only allows one of my family on the rock once a year to deliver him the customary whale." We lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few moments. If I gazed hard enough, I could just pick up the slight swaying of the Ice Dragon's tail.

_There was something I wanted...no, needed to ask._

"You were one of my father's closest friends" I said. Howland Reed smiled.

"You do me an underserved honour princess" he said, "Eddard and I hadn't been face to face for years before his passing."

"But you were still close to him" I pressed, "and...knew several of his secrets." The man's smile dropped slightly.

"I do"

"My father...never had chance to tell me the identity of my mother" I said, "He had promised to do it himself, but now...Queen Catelyn might not be okay with revealing her; especially if the house could be a possible threat to Robyn." Lord Howland's smile had vanished entirely now.

"This is dangerous information princess" he said, "More dangerous than you understand." He was trying to dissuade me from asking.

"Is the family one of our enemies?" I asked, "I don't look like a Baratheon or a Lannister."

_No, I look Dornish and we are not at war with them. If Ashara is my mother there would be no issue._

"Not an...enemy as such" he replied, "But there are other things involved - many secrets that could spell harm for thousands."

_Thousands? But I'm just a bastard?_

"Ask me once this war is over" he said, "But until then your mother's name - gods rest her - must remain secret. For the sake of many."

In the distance a dragon roared.

 

**Extras 43:**

**Extract from 'Histories of Northos' by Maester Rickard**

**The Battles with Valyria**

From before any of our great histories begun, Frostwing the Ice Dragon has guarded the shores of Northos. From the demons of the Long Night in the far past, to the Ironborn and their Sea Dragons in recent history; he has always been there as the great solitary protector of Northos.

Perhaps that is why the Valyrians took offence to his existence.

During a long period stretching from the rise of the 'Free' Cities, to the cataclysmic Doom; a large number of attacks were launched against the frozen dragon - containing no more than four fire dragons at a time and barely, if ever causing damage to the kingdom itself. The attacks were usually infrequent, happening only once every twenty years - with the exception of the period around 345BAC, where three attacks were launched in a short period.

Many reasons have been suggested by our scholars for these attacks: offence at the idea of an Ice Dragon, a prelude to a conquest of Northos, fear that the god might attack Valyria, revenge for an ancestor's death, a desire to prove themselves... The latter two are the most accepted reasons, though combined with the prevalent rumour that the Dragonlords wished to steal one of the seven Lightbringers, that at the time was locked in the Winterfell vaults. Despite no archeological evidence of this motive existing, the rumour remains relevant due to evidence that two of the other swords had been captured by the Freehold.

But casting possibilities aside, it is important now to discuss the actual conflicts. Most of the fights between the beasts took place off the southeastern coast of Northos, as the Valyrians had chosen to take the shortest distance possible from the Valyrian Peninsula to the Slash. Occasionally a battle would be fought over land, such as the battle over the Scorched Isle, the battle of Littlesister or the battle over Widow's Watch (which is a misnomer, as the castle would not begin construction for another century).

As the reader has probably guessed, Frostwing defeated all challengers - regardless of their numbers - and forced them from the sky. He then performed a curious ritual with the bodies of the dragons he had slain. By either the neck or the torso, the beasts were dragged through the skies to the region near Oldcastle now known as the 'Dragon Graveyard'. Here they were buried in an artificial glacier, frozen under miles of ice. There were exceptions of course, such as the body of Dharion - the enemy in the Battle of the Scorched Isle - whose body fell apart in midflight. The reasoning behind this ritual is unknown, though Maester Wylas has suggested that it could be to prevent the bodies attracting Sea Dragons or Sea Serpents.

No discussion of these wars would be complete without a mention of Vaerion 'the Foolhardy'. Vaerion, unlike other Dragonlords was aware that he could not defeat Frostwing with fire dragons. His plan therefore was to recruit (or kidnap) an Ironborn with the ability to to summon Sea Dragons, in the hope that the other Dragon would kill, or at least distract Frostwing long enough for him to reach Winterfell.

It didn't work.

The first part of the plan actually went fine, Vaerion's Dragon capturing an Ironborn prince and the latter's horn. Unfortunately when the captured Ironborn blew the horn, the awoken Sea Dragon set his sights...on the Fire Dragon, which he rose from the ocean depths to devour. The Sea Dragon itself was brought down by Frostwing off the western coast, near the area to become known as Sea Dragon Point.

And so Frostwing continues to guard Northos to this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Did anyone miss me? No? Maybe a little bit? Pretty Please?
> 
> Next chapter's Sansa.


	44. Sansa II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Events of the Past.

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 44**

Sansa Stark

Somewhere in Planetos... - 18th Garthtide 299AC

  
The wind howled as it rushed through the old godswood. A few visible leaves littered the ground around the central heart tree, but most had been hidden by a fresh snowfall. The face of the tree itself had been recently carved with the features of a solemn bearded man, as evidenced by the unworn features and fresh knife marks. The pool beneath the tree was a dark red, as if someone had been freshly sacrificed to the Old Gods.

_Curiously, it almost looked like a younger version of the godswood back home at Winterfell._

I watched silently as a young man kneeled in front of the heart tree, wiping silver blood of a long frozen sword. With the exception of the wrapped handle, it almost looked like the 'Ice'; our house's ancestral blade stolen from the Night's Queen. But what was the silver blood?

_A potion of some kind?_

The man was wearing stained leather armour, though of a far more ancient design than even the suits on display in the Winterfell vaults. His hair too was brown, though with a large patch where part of it had fallen (or been torn) away. He stirred as I drew closer.

"It was good of you to come here" said the man, still kneeling down before the tree. "Your Grace."

_Are you talking to me...?_

"Possibly" said another, older voice, "and then again, possibly not." An old man had appeared in a swirl of snow at the edge of the clearing. He was dressed in dirty white robes and on his back carried a large green battleaxe. An aura of power emitted from his body, a sign that this was no mortal man.

But he was not the Wolf Lord.

Where the Wolf Lord's hair was usually brown or grey, this man's hair was a deep coppery red. Where the Wolf Lord's eyes were grey - verging on black - this man's eyes were utterly white. This was another god, one I had no knowledge of. And as far as I knew, there weren't any other gods who appeared through the wierwood trees...

_Well aside from Frostwing, but I doubt that this man is a dragon in disguise._

"How could it be a possibly not?" muttered the kneeling man darkly, "The Queen lies dead, her armies sundered. Her sword now has a new owner." I noticed one of the man's hands was blackened around the finger tips, likely from frostbite. "As we speak, Frostwing is driving the survivors back into the Lands of Always Winter." Neither of the men seemed to be aware of me, even when I stepped further into the snowy clearing. It seemed I could only watch, not interact with whatever was going on.

"The Queen is dead" the older man nodded, "but the Voice continues on. You do not use the sword."

_A sword. What sword?_

"You told me the price I would have to pay if I was to use it" the younger replied, "I will not slay one of my own blood - not even for that. We'll find another way to kill the primordial."

"And if there is no other way?"

"There will be!" The younger man spun around, almost tripping over himself in his need to face the other one. "I will not rest until she is gone, but I will not sacrifice my daughter for a simple weapon!" His piercing eyes stuck out at me - Stark grey.

_Could he be...our family has had visions of the past before. But when is this?_

"You may regret that choice in time" said the old man, not moving from where he had appeared. "When we first spoke, you said that you would be willing to sacrifice anything to defeat the Others."

_The Others! Could this be...Brandon the Builder?_

"I meant myself!" said the young man, "or an army - not a child! Not a babe! The first hero was a maniac if he thought that was an acceptable price!" The old man smiled coldly, his lips thinning till they were almost non-existent.

"Would you have chosen differently then Brandon?" he said, in a whisper like the rustling of leaves. "Infinite power is a dangerous thing. Once a wish is made, it cannot be undone. No matter the cost." In a instant the scene froze, the two men standing a meter apart surrounding only by leaves half fallen from the trees. The icy sword still glowed a cold blue, as did the odd green battleaxe strapped to the god's back. And then another voice spoke:

"The past is unchangeable. What has been written cannot be erased." The sound of the person - I couldn't tell its gender - was barely a whisper, but at the same time it seemed to echo throughout the frozen glade. "But the future, the future remains unwritten. Your kin's fate has not yet been decided. You can change what is to happen."

And it was at that moment, my body choose to awaken.

\----------------

  
I was lying on a simple straw bed in a sparse room. The walls were roughly layered stone, interspersed with the occasional wooden beam. A small window was set into one of them, though it was filled with wooden shutters rather than glass.

_...Where am I? This isn't King's Landing...or Winterfell..._

The only furniture in the room (aside from the bed obviously) was a cracked chamberpot resting against the door, and a old wardrobe, one of its doors stuck permanently half open. I could see the edge of a plain brown dress poking out from the edge.

_Have I fallen asleep in someone else's room? I know Robyn did a bit of sleepwalking a few months back, but I don't think it runs in the family..._

My body ached as I forced myself up to sit on the edge of the bed. I felt as if I'd been sleeping for weeks, for my arms and legs were as stiff as wooden boards. Rubbing my forehead to try and relive some of the ache, I paused when I noticed several bumps that had not been there before.

_A scar? But where from?_

Most of my body was unharmed, but on my forehead, on my left arm and around my neck I was now afflicted with deep scratches from some creature. I prodded the one on my arm. No pain, but I suspected sadly that the scars were far too deep to vanish completely. They were a dusty red colour and even in my daze I could tell it would be difficult to not notice them. I was hideous. I had always valued my beauty, gloried in how lovely my features were. But now my value as a bride was now probably even less than Arya's, as no one wanted a scarred freak for a good-daughter.

_What has happened? Think Sansa, think!_

_"Take him!" Queen Cersei._

_"Swear to me you'll see them safe." Father._

_"We can't leave him!" Arya._

_"A Squisher, princess." Jory._

_"It's been too long since I was home." A man's voice, low and rough._

I remembered now. What had...what the Baratheons are done. Betrayed before the Iron Throne. Father and our men cut down like cattle. And then us fleeing through the sewers, the attack from the Squishers (which I guessed was where the scars were from) and that final pained climb out of the city underground. But what happened after that? I remembered voices speaking over me in my sleep - something about a lizard? - but aside from that... Had I been recaptured by the Lannisters? Rescued by Jory?

_I hope the latter. But if so, where was Arya?_

I had to get moving. If I had been caught I needed to escape immediately, rather than be stuck as a hostage for the rest of my family. Pulling myself up from the bed, I stumbled over to the wardrobe and grasped the cheap dress that had been left inside. I assumed that my nightdress (or whoever's I had been dressed in while sleeping) would only attract adverse attention, so I quickly pulled the servant's outfit on. The dress, a dirty green shawl, some _really_ itchy smallclothes and two loose leather boots.

_If mother could see me now she'd explode._

I was slightly suspicious as to why I'd been left in this room out of all others in the Black Keep. Maybe the Baratheons didn't have any spare cells and assumed that as I was unconscious, they didn't need to arrange sufficient imprisonment? It sounded like something the ridiculous southrons would believe.

_Still, mustn't be overconfident._

I decided that if possible, I would avoid slipping out through the window; as that was both sure to attract attention and likely to get my neck broken. Instead I quietly pressed against the door - listening for any guards - before softly opening it and stepping out in the corridor beyond. It was built in the same fashion as my captured bedchamber and thankfully empty. I could hear talking from down the corridor to my left - two men and a woman (probably my guards), so naturally I headed right. As I walked I tried to remember how the maids at Winterfell would act, only to be met with constant blanks.

_Did they keep their arms by their sides? Or clasped in front? They kept their heads down didn't they? Gods, I wish I had spent the amount of time Arya did with them._

I needed to be unnoticed if I wanted any chance of getting home. I had to pass as just another smallfolk girl; not important, not worthy of any attention. The corridor turned right again at the end, revealing a set of creaky wooden stairs leading downwards. The constant noise did not help my nerves at all, as I crept down them. At the foot of the stairs stood a heavy wooden door, from behind which I could hear feasting and chatting.

_Damn it._

Just as I was debating whether or not to turn around, the door was opened from the other side - revealing a scowling middle aged woman, wearing an apron and holding a large rolling pin. Her eyes glinted as she spotted me.

"There you are girl!" she exclaimed, "What do you think you've been doing, hanging around upstairs for so long?!"

"Um..." I said, confused for many reasons.

_I think you have me confused for someone else..._

"Humph, well if you're not willing to explain now, we'll have to have a long-talk-later." She grabbed my arm and hauled me into the room beyond the doorway.

_...I have no idea what's going on. Who is this woman? Who does she think I am?_

As I was dragged along I examined the room the woman had appeared from. It was the ground floor of a large tavern, filled with over a dozen men and women drinking, dancing and laughing with each other. Eight tables were placed around the room, accompanied by a throng of chairs of vastly different styles and shapes. On one of the walls hung a large faded painting of a Sea Dragon swimming under a misty sky. Two barmaids fluttered about between the tables, one of them giving me the evil eye as I was dragged across to a bar counter. An old man stood behind the counter, occasionally bellowing orders out at the maids while he served the three men sat on barstools. His eyes lit up when he spotted me.

"Ah Salla, serve table four for me would you?" he asked, pushing a tray with two mugs towards me. The woman pursed her lips.

"Don't praise her Daven" she said, "she spent far too long cleaning those rooms - probably of gallivanting with some boy." The bartender, Daven laughed.

"Well we were all young once." Too confused to argue I stumbled with the tray towards one of the tables. Obviously they had confused me for one of their maids - some tart apparently - who thankfully had not been around when I was discovered.

_Maybe their eyesight is going?_

It would be difficult to sneak off under their watch (and that of the other maids), so I would have to hang around and wait for either an opportunity to slip out or the shift to end; whichever came first. The two guards sat on the table near the door also contributed to this plan, as I doubted I could sneak past them without being noticed. So I would have to pretend to be this 'Salla' for a while.

_Maybe I'll get paid if I the real girl doesn't turn up. That at least would be good as I don't have any money._

But the question of why I had been in this tavern in the first place still nibbled at my mind.

\----------------

Half an hour later, I had still not had an opportunity to escape. Any attempt had been foiled: by another maid; by the bartender or his bitch of a wife; by a patron calling me over for "More Ale!" or on my closest attempt, the door being suddenly locked.

_Which is ridiculous as I saw someone walk through it nary a minute before._

Combined with my failure had been the constant yelling of the drunkards (I blame them entirely for my headache), far too many spillages and in several cases one of them attempting to grab my ass or pull me into their lap! If I was still a princess I would have had that oaf flogged. I had only been rescued by the timely intervention of one of the other barmaids, an older brunette called Rachyl. My legs were also aching from standing up too long, with only the occasional rest against a counter. I had tried to steal a stool - only for the wife to inform me that "the stools are for customers only you lazy girl!"

_If she shouts at me one more time, I'm going to slap her - disguise be dammed._

"Salla" said the barman, drawing my fading attention to him. "The table at the back, take the man there a pint of ale would you?" I nodded - with definitely no muttering under my breath and stalked over with the tray. 'The man' was covered by a grey cloak, obscuring his face in shadow.

"Here you are, one pint of ale" I said, failing to put on a cheery voice.

"Thank you, princess" the man said, his voice familiar immediately - he was one of the men who had conversed over my unconscious body! I froze up, but before I could run or demand an explanation he spoke again. "If you want to know what is going on, why you are here - I suggest you sit down." Perhaps foolishly, I did as he said.

"Who are you?" I asked, "and where am I?" I had guessed by now that I wasn't in Winterfell or King's Landing due to the lack of Wolfguard/ Goldcloaks passing through the tavern.

"I'm surprised you don't recognise my voice" the man said, "I would have thought the events of last month would be permanently stuck in your mind."

"Last...month?"

"The escape from King's Landing. You've been out for quite a while, thanks to whatever gave you those scars. My healers were quite worried for a time."

_Has it really been an entire month? What about Arya? Or Robyn or Joanna or Rickard or Mother?_

"You didn't answer my question" I prodded. The man chuckled.

"True, true" he said, "My name is Barum Koridan, High Lord of the Koridoran Archipelago. That's where you are now, or to be more precise the capital of the archipelago Koresport." The Haunted Island. I had heard the legends of course, everyone had. While a valuable trade partner and generally neutral ally to other kingdoms, the area - and its ruling family - was said to hold some of the cruelest magic possible. Definitely not a safe place to be.

"And how did I end up in Koridoran" I questioned, "Have I been kidnapped? Am I a prisoner?" The man smirked.

"No" he said, "You can leave whenever you want from now on. I asked the people here to delay you long enough for me to arrive and explain things permanently. There is no actual Sanna and if asked, the workers will swear that they have never heard that name."

_So I've been in a nest of spies all along. Suspicious._

"You didn't answer all my questions." Again.

"Yes, well bringing you was a last minute thing during our own escape from King's Landing. One of my guards knocked you out by accident when you emerged from the sewers and when another of them recognised you well." He smirked again. "I decided to deprive the Baratheons of any captives. We might not be at war with them here, but I would prefer is they weren't able to do anything like that little stunt again."

_But what happened to my sister? Do you have her as well?_

"Why am I in a tavern?" I asked, "Guests are usually kept in your own keep, rather than thrown to the smallfolk."

_Was I not important enough for you?_

"You were hid here on my orders to disguise you from any Baratheon parties that came to 'apologise for the calamity in the throne room'" Barum answered, "As it happens, one arrived a few days ago and another is coming from Lord Tywin so I had good reason to act. No one would look among the small folk for a lost princess."

_Cunning, though perhaps overly paranoid._

"I do not have the money to afford a trip home" I said, "My allowance was with my old dress which wasn't there when I woke up."

_I would ask for it back, but doubtless you would take that as an insult. I still don't trust you._

"It wasn't there when we picked you up" he replied, "It must have been lost in your trip through the sewers. Still, if you wish to travel back I suppose I can lend you the money - though doubtless both coastlines will be crawling with pirates and Baratheon scout ships by now."

_Oh._

"However, I can offer you two other choices" he said, smirking once more. "You can remain here in the tavern until it is safe to return home, the owner will take you on if I ask. You'll have to work, of course and will be regarded with the same rights as any other member of the smallfolk. If harm befalls you it is likely punishment will only be delivered to your attacker after the deed has already been done." I unconsciously crossed my legs.

_And if the harm is ordered by you, likely never at all._

"Or the alternative?" I asked. I could easily tell he was deliberately toying with my options, that he wanted me to choose this third path.

_What do you really want?_

"In two days time a ship is arriving from the captured island of Pyke" Barum said, "On board - if you agree - will be the daughter of Lord Stoneford, a pretty lass of 14 with blue eyes and brown hair. Of course, none of the people on this island have ever met Mercy Stoneford and so would not notice if the girl failed to resemble what she apparently looked like." He paused. "Though I did take the liberty of having your hair dyed."

"What?" I grasped at my hair, cut short at some point during my journey and now a dirty brown colour.

"We don't have many redheads on the isles" said the Koridan, blithering on relentlessly. "So I thought it best - to prevent suspicions. The girl herself is taking a tour of the Free Cities, payed for by my house and will not return for at least a year." I didn't like the way he looked at me from under the hood. "Which shall it be?"

_Pirates, drunkards or maniacs? None are good options. Two will kill me, but the latter only guarantees my survival until this madman grows bored._

"I accept." Reluctantly.

 

 

**Extras 44:**

**Extract from 'Castles of the World' by Maester Durin**

**The Deepcore, seat of House Koridan**

The Deepcore, also occasionally referred to as 'The Pit' or 'Hell's Museum' is one of the most mysterious castles explored in the pages of this book. Of course, some of this is due to oversea distance combined with the rumours surrounding the island of Koridoran itself. But the odd nature of the castle cannot be denied.

The Deepcore is built into the foothills of the Fountainpeak, the great mountain that dominates the centre of the island of Koridoran. It is a squat, circular keep with seven towers built at equidistant points around the fort. Unlike many other castles, the courtyard - including the kennels, the castle forge, etc - is kept outside the main structure, surrounded in turn by a curtain wall built in 124AC. The castle has two known entrances; a main gate on the north side that joins the road leading to Koresport and a smaller eastern gate, used for travels up the mountain itself. The keep has often been described as ugly because of its dark grey walls and few adornments, a verdict which is most likely true.

The inside of the castle is well furnished - as one would expect from a noble house - with tapestries and paintings procured from many places; including at least three from Leng. The inside corridors curl around each other in a often confusing fashion for those who are unused to them; in a fashion oddly similar to the race known as the Maze Makers. Whether a connection is present is unknown, though the design is shared with an ancient ruined fortress on the southern edge of the mountain.

It has been suggested that the castle is not big enough to hold all of its contents, a fact that is likely explained by being the twisting nature of the fortress and the significant underground portions of the keep. Indeed, all of the Koridan personal rooms are kept deep within the maze of Deepcore; as is the entrance to the vaults that give the castle it's name.

**The Vaults of Koridoran**

The most significant portion of the castle (in truth, being at least twice the size of the rest of it) are the massive underground caverns accessible only from deep within the keep. These caverns function as a joint storage warehouse, museum and security vault for the royals of Koridoran. Admittance to the caverns are strictly prohibited, with many inhabitants of the keep never even seeing the door.

According to legend, the vaults contain a vast array of magical artifacts from across the world; items gathered (or stolen) by the family on their many 'diplomatic' trips. Rumoured artefacts include:

  * Several Lost Valyrian Swords.
  * A horde of Dragon Eggs, stolen from Dragonstone.
  * A Sea Dragon Horn, captured during the War of the Faiths.
  * Preserved bodies of a Shai'tan, a Night's Queen and a Red Demon.
  * The head of a Greater Demon from the Deep Dark.
  * Seized documents from the coast of Lorath.
  * A Flesh-hammer, taken from the ruins of Valyria.
  * Hugor of the Hill's Holy Spear, stolen during the Sacking of Andalos.
  * One of the Seven Lightbringers, retrieved from the ruins of Oldtown.
  * The Art of War, a book containing the passed down advice of all High Lords of Koridan.



Whatever their contents, the vaults are protected by a vast array of traps, both magic and mundane. At least two members of the Fountainguard are always on guard duty, with orders to kill intruders on sight. The door is said to only open to a Koridan's touch, with the lower levels apparently requiring even more than that. Entry even for guests, is only permitted with an armed guard and only for the higher levels.


	45. Petyr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Devil's calling your number up today!

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 45**

Petyr Baelish

The Deepcore, Seat of House Koridan - 17th Garthtide 299AC

I awoke chained to a wall and surrounded by impenetrable darkness. The stones at my back were impossibly smooth, almost sharply cut. The cast iron rubbed against my wrists and ankles, the chains being attached to some socket far too high up for me to see or reach without climbing. I peered into the shadows of the room. Dimly, I could see the floor half a meter beneath my feet - cut in the same sheer fashion as the walls. There was a recess in the middle of it, carved a further foot down into the dark earth. Strangely enough, parts of the floor were wet - not the dampness of a dungeon, but puddles suggesting the room had been either washed or flooded recently. Possibly with the prisoners inside...

_Not the Black Cells then._

From the way my head ached, I guessed that I had been knocked out for quite some time. The ruination of my clothes and overgrown state of my hair proved that. Theoretically with the thriving sea trade I could have been moved anywhere on the Westeros continent, or the western coast of Essos against my will. Any patrols sent out to look for me would do nothing against a fast ship.

_So, where could I be? Who would want me dead?_

Silently, I thought through the possible locations (mainly dungeons) that I could have been realistically imprisoned in. King's Landing was out, as was the Eyrie - this was unlikely to be a Tower Cell or a Sky Cell. Likewise Highgarden, Storm's End and Oldstones were improbable; as was the Iron Bank. Doubtless they would want to make my execution public to warn off others.

_5 years of planning ruined in one move. But they will not find all my stashes - they cannot! Once I escape I'll rebuild in secret._

Perhaps Pyke or Sunspear then? Both settlements had an integral connection to water and were doubtless not averse to using it in their tortures. Or mayhaps Winterfell or Casterly Rock, maybe the half-breeds were trying out some new methods of torturing their enemies? But how did they discover my actions?

_It's impossible to explain. None of the idiots I've dealt with have ever shown the necessary cunning to realise what I've been doing! Not even Varys with all his 'little birds'._

Furthermore, it should have been near-impossible for them to find where I'd hidden my books, or any other evidence of my campaign against the finances of Westeros. The fools would have thought to look for them at my keep in the Fingers, or King's Landing itself, or the Iron Bank! They would never suspect the true location: a small vault hidden directly under a monolithic sky shard, not close enough to anger the Storm God but close enough that none would dare meddle with my affairs. No! They couldn't have found out about my actions, it wasn't remotely feasible - I would have heard about it long before anyone even thought to imprison me. It was unthinkable that finances were the reason.

_So the question is, why else would I be imprisoned?_

Perhaps one of them had discovered my schemes with Lysa Arryn. It was not unthinkable that the woman had accidentally revealed both her and mine involvement in her husband's death. She had been pathetically easy to coerce for me, could her uncle or another have done the same? It was likely. The multiple miscarriages had broken any will she had, and turned her anger at being married to an old man into hate. And hate was easily exploitable when you were as clever as me.

\----------------

I had first met Lysa Arryn when her husband had invited me to New King's Landing to work as an apprentice for the Master of Coin. He had heard of my work in Gulltown, rebuilding that town's finances (at least openly) after the sack in Robert's Rebellion and had thought that my apparent talent for money would assist the aging man in his twilight years. Which it did, for a time.

_The man was quietly poisoned one year and 8 months later. The court passed it off as old age, as I had planned._

Aside from diverting the Crown's funds into my own pockets and slowly building an empire of Westerosi businesses, I had quickly begun gathering a council of informants for myself - at the beginning so I could be forewarned if any discovered my actions; later so I could be forewarned of the plots of _others_. Not so I could stop them of course - unless they were a threat to me - but so that I could take advantage and twist them for my own ends. It was one of those spies (a chambermaid) that had first given me a true idea of Lady Lysa's 'fragile mind', though I had suspected for a few months. A kind man would have pitied the woman.

_But myself on the other hand...well, leaving a tool unused would be rude._

A friendly chat occasionally. A small gift - lemoncakes, a silver pendant. Once or twice a reassuring shoulder to cry on. Until slowly I had weaved my way into the woman's heart and soul. After that, coercing her to kill her husband was pathetically easy. It was nothing personal with Jon Arryn, truly the man had been more than fair to me. But in his family I had seen the opportunity to rise higher than ever before, more than any man of my class had ever been able to do in this kingdom. A wife that hated him. A son that barely knew either of them. And an entire kingdom at their beck and call.

_How could I resist?_

Through several methods; a anonymous letter, a overheard conversation (performed by my spies) I had 'informed' the young Robert Arryn of his mother's actions. Faced with the knowledge that his father's murderer walked before him, combined with the _honour_ taught by Yohn Royce: the boy would have no choice but to kinslay himself, to purge his house of that sin. And while that crime was not large enough for the gods themselves to care, it was far too terrible for any Vale Lord to ever consider following him again. And that is where I would have stepped in.

_A few little threats and I would have had the entire Vale dancing to my tune through young Robert. And with one kingdom under my control, well...someday there would still be another on the Iron Throne but every word from his mouth would be mine._

\----------------

Perhaps one of my spies was working for another then. If they were willing to betray their king for money then I doubted I could ever had truly held their loyalty. But even then, I should have known! Many of my spies were instructed to spy on other informants as well, to ensure any blabbermouth was dealt with _quickly_. It was unthinkable that I had could have been outsmarted.

_No one suspects the Mockingbird after all._

With great effort, I twisted my hands around to grasp at their chains. The fools who had built this prison had not thought to make the chains on my feet tight; enabling me to climb upwards towards the distant socket for the manacles imprisoning my arms. While the wall itself was smooth and wet, the chains were rough iron - painful to grasp yes, but acceptable for a man escaping his doom. And I would escape, once I was out of these chains. My simpleminded jailers obviously hadn't thought to check me over for tools before leaving, as my dagger still poked into my leg. I quickly wormed my way upwards; the chains slowly growing closer and tighter together. Until finally at the peak of my climb, I reached the socket of my chains - an iron hook set deep into the chamber wall.

_Just as I hoped. No matter how smart an enemy is, they are bound to slip up somewhere._

With some considerable effort, I eased the chain up over the hook - bracing myself on the wall for both leverage and the fall that would follow. Hopefully the chains wouldn't make too much noise or at least not attract too many guards. I heaved...and with a sudden release I was falling downwards towards the _hard_ stone floor. To my shame I landed badly, yelping in pain when my back connected with the ground. For a few moments I lay still, nursing the aches - they were definitely going to bruise. Idly, I imagined someone laughing at my misfortune.

_Doubtless most of the highborn would find this hilarious. A lowborn who pretended he was a highborn, now reminded of his status._

With my dagger and a small lockpick in my shoe, the cuffs did not take long to undo, now that I was able to use my hands properly. Over time my eyes had adjusted slightly to the room, allowing me to see another identical wall to both my left and my right. A painted design was marked out on the floor before me, though irritatingly it had faded too much to be recognisable. As I wandered forwards to inspect the room further, I noticed a large steel grate on the floor - covering up a dark wooden cover below. It looked almost like a drain...

The more pressing matter for me however, was the lack of door. All the walls were absolutely flat expanses, bare aside from identical hooks halfway up each. The pit itself was covered with a massive iron grate. This was no dungeon; the water on the floor, the grates, the smoothed out walls - this was nothing less than a flood chamber, designed to torment some unfortunate with a slow death by drowning. And then I truly heard the laughter from above.

In a instant eight torches lining the walls of my pit flared into being, set alight by a shockwave of flame spewing from a shadow's fingertips. This particular shadow was sat on a throne overlooking my torment, but he was not alone. Five other men were stood around, three of them armed with swords and two more a large wheel embedded in the ground. All of them were waiting with expectant smiles.

"The Fountain Court declares the trial of Petyr Baelish for the crime of fraud" declared one of them - an old man - before he pulled out a goblet and flung the contents down with me. I had an uncomfortable feeling that the contents were blood. "Petyr Baelish, how do you plead?"

"The court has not informed me of what fraud I am accused of" I answered, delaying a plea to buy myself time. "I cannot make a statement either way until that has occurred."

"You are accused" the shadow on the throne growled, "of tampering with the profits of not only Westeros but the wider world as well. Do you deny this?"

"I do" I replied, confident that any evidence to say otherwise was well hidden. If these fools were going to give me the benefit of a trial then I would seize the opportunity. Words shall be my weapons. "I have always done my duty as Master of Coin; there is nothing to prove otherwise."

"Bring forth the evidence" ordered the shadow who had spoken first, gesturing to some people beyond the few I could see from the depths. I heard a loud thump as something was dragged towards the pit; followed by a creak as it was opened.

Another younger voice spoke. "Four ledgers of trade in Koresport. Two ledgers of trade in New King's Landing. Three ledgers from the accused's personal store in his solar." While it was worrying that they had collected those files, it did confirm that they were unaware of my personal store. The evidence' was incomplete and therefore useless.

"Thank you Carn" begun again the seated figure, "The ledgers show a clear discrepancy between the reported figures for trade given here and in Lord Baelish's private stores; and again for his figures when compared to King's Landing. I have already questioned the harbourmaster here and am sufficiently convinced of the man's innocence."

"I protest!" I cut in, sensing an opportunity to stall the trial. "How can a lowborn's word - especially considering he may not be good at writing - be trusted over my own? I have served King Robert reliably for years. Surely I am more trustworthy than a simpleton." Well, I've been reliable at providing money for his tourneys at least. The seated shadow sneered and raised an arm.

"A single one of my people's lives is worth a thousand of anyone else's" he spat out, "And that goes for their word as well." With a click of his fingers, he summoned a ball of lightning in his left hand. "Trusting you, on the other hand would be a mistake." With a single, precise movement the lightning was flung at one wall of my pit, where it exploded forcing me to duck to avoid the cascading sparks. Once again there was laughter from above. "Continue please, Gastem."

"Petyr Baelish" said the older man, "Do you have any evidence to prove that you did not tamper with trade?"

_I doubt it, but if I am given time then ledgers can be changed._

With a simpering voice, I began: "If the court would allow me time to collect..."

"Denied" said the enthroned man, "Your word will have to work for you here."

"But how can I defend myself with no evidence?" I asked, "If I would be allowed to retrieve some _accurate_ documents, then this court would truly be just." For me at least.

"Travelling from here to King's Landing and back would take over a month" the man replied, "and too much could happen in that time. You could attempt to escape and we can't allow that." He leaned back and considered me for a few moments, in a silence that dragged on like a cold wind. "I've made my decision" he finally said, "Leave us." As one the other shadows slinked off, the old man moving towards the throne for a few moments before being waved away.

"May I know what your decision is?" I asked, not that I didn't suspect the likely answer. I supposed I could climb up one of the other chains to escape anything released down into this pit, though how I would get past the iron grate was another issue. One section of it had to be removable, otherwise how would they have got me down here originally?

"Guilty" the man replied, "Which is not saying that I hadn't decided that before your trial."

"But all you have is circumstantial evidence, my lord" I said, moving closer to one of the walls. My dagger might help me fight off anything not heavily armoured. "The gods will judge you badly for denying me a right to defend myself." The man chuckled.

"I somewhat doubt that. Besides which, the gods of Westeros are...not my concern." His left hand rested among the flames of a torch. "Have you realised what you stand in?" he asked.

"A flood chamber" I replied, "A barbaric way of executing anyone." A cruel smile.

"Perhaps" the shadow said, "But for an enemy of Koridoran, no punishment is too great." So that was where I was. The cursed island to the far south of Westeros, home to the remnants of the maze makers of Lorath. "But you are not entirely right. Yes, the room will flood but the water involved has been raised to a temperature more suitable for cooking than swimming." He reached the large wheel and slowly began to turn it. "My question, Lord Baelish is whether you will drown or boil first. Try to keep it interesting would you?" With a rumble, the water began to pour up through the flood gate in the recess. I ran to a chain.

"I demand a trial by combat!" I shouted as I frantically began to climb, racing to escape the water. I could already feel the heat rising, sweat beginning to pour down my back.

"Denied" the man cackled, "Besides which, my guards would make far too short work of you." Panic was spurring me to move faster than I had ever done, scrambling higher towards a distant possibility of freedom. But the water was rising too.

"You can't do this!" I screeched, "I'll pay you thousands - I'll give you all my businesses - I'll tell you everything!" I had never feared death before but now, with the spectre of the Stranger reaching out for me I couldn't focus on anything else. It couldn't end like this for me, not after everything I'd done.

"You have nothing that I care about" said the man, smiling like a cat staring upon a terrified mouse. "Only your death matters now." And then the water reached me and all was agony.

\----------------

There is nothing to describe how boiling alive feels for a dying man. Every part of your body screaming put in pain, your muscles spasming as instinct takes over...your throat burning as you make your final cries.

Petyr Baelish didn't survive long enough to drown.

 

**Extras 45:**

**Extracts from 'Songs of the Known World' by Lomas Longstrider**

** Brandon's Ode: Maege the Wargwife **

One of the oldest songs in this book, 'Brandon's Ode' dates from the time of the Long Night - apparently based on the words of Brandon the Builder himself. It has seen a drop in use in recent centuries (replaced by songs such as 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'), but continues to play an important role in the ceremonies of the Green Men and chronicles of the Long Night.

 _What makes a man a warrior?_  
_What hard price can you pay?_  
_A thousand lives for a weapon!_  
_Ten thousand more to be saved._

 _The cost of duty is murder._  
_Too many have already passed._  
_As winter turns into winter,_  
_As death walks out on our lands._

 _A sword must not be the answer._  
_The future is not truly set!_  
_A light thrown into the future!_  
_A tree burned black in the past!_

 _Ice and blood together._  
_A sacrifice done at the end._  
_How many will die before victory?_  
_How much will be lost before then?_

** Mining Song No.346 (Sing in the Deep): Barim the Musician **

One of a thousand long collection of mining songs allegedly composed by Barim, (along with 'Two Beers Please', 'Duram the Great', 'Duram the Strong, etc.), these songs often see use down in the mines - or pubs - of Erebos.

 _Sing! Sing! Sing, in the deep!_  
_Raise your hammers high!_  
_Pound the earth and break the rocks!_  
_Smash the ground aside! Yo!_  
_Raise your pick and shovel here!_  
_Claim this vein as yours!_  
_Mine for gold and iron low!_  
_The depths are ours to claim! Yah!_  
_Deep! Deep! Deep, in the mine!_  
_Where moonlight cannot go!_  
_A thousand, thousand gems shall lie!_  
_Ours my brethren! On! ON!_  
_If you see a goblin,_  
_Smash his face in half!_  
_The depths are ours! By Duram's power!_  
_A thousand axes blow! Ha!_  
_Gold! Gold! Gold, below!_  
_For dwarven hands to claim!_  
_The things below will fall down now!_  
_We don't fear the deep! Bah!_

** Kakstark and Gardener: Unknown **

A pub song based on the deeds of Kariko 'Kak' Stark and Bor Gardener, this song chronicles a heavily exaggerated version of their blood feud with Lyonel Reyne. It has also found common use as a marching song, though is unpopular in the Westerlands. Apparently there was a third verse, though it has been lost to history.

 _Kakstark with his cooking pot and Gardener with his spade!_  
_Marched down the River Road and smacked the lion in the face!_  
_Their weapons bright and shining!_  
_Their armour gleaming grey!_  
_A chestnut on one shoulder and a pumpkin on the face! Ha!_

 _Kakstark had a scar shaped like a woman making love!_  
_Gardener had a bruise the size of Vhaegar's moody gob!_  
_A thousand soldiers forward!_  
_A million to the back!_  
_But still they punched that lion shit and broke his smirking jaw! Ha!_

** Lorath: Alyssa the Great **

There is precious little actual documentation that originates from the 'Silence of Lorath'. Alyssa the Prophetess's poem (later put to music by an unknown source) is one of only half a dozen artifacts scavenged from the ruins and is by far the most well known. It is uncommon to hear, but occasionally pops up in a Vale pub.

 _A maze lies next....to the ocean blue._  
_A million souls...lie trapped within._  
_A thousand waves...cursed forever._  
_Oh, Lorath is lost and silent._

 _Something sleeps...beneath their tombstones._  
_Something rests...down in the dark._  
_Shadows wake...watching terror._  
_Oh, Lorath is lost and silent._

 _Only bones rest...on Lorath's shores._  
_Only blood pools...in its fountains and streams._  
_Nobody lives...in the cursed streets of Lorath._  
_Oh, Lorath is lost and silent._

** The Beast of Rookridge: Kit Tully **

A rousing song written by Kit Tully (Lord of Riverrun), to spur on his fellow hunters during the quest for the Beast of Rookridge; Firtormarah (meaning Lifebane in Sarnori). A popular marching hymn.

 _Run through the woods and run through the valleys!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_Pay now the price in blood, milk and water!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_Climb down a well and offer him tribute!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_Or you be dead and your spirit tribute!_  
FIR-TOR-MAR-AH!!!

 _Burn down your crops or he will be welcome!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_Poisons your streams and sunders your cattle!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_Bows are no use and blades will be broken!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_He sees your soul and enters it backwards!_  
FIR-TOR-MAR-AH!!!

 _Raise now the dead to fight with us, brethren!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_Summon a god and pray for an answer!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_Magic and might, thunder and firestorm!_  
Fir-tor-mar-ah!  
_Bring down the beast or die in the tunnels!_  
FIR-TOR-MAR-AH!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Sing in the Deep', 'Kakstark and Gardener' and 'The Beast of Rookridge' all have very fast tempos and upbeat tunes. 'Brandon's Ode' and 'Lorath' are much slower with sad melodies.
> 
> Apologies if any parts of the pub songs upset anyone. I don't think they're too offensive, but at the same time I was trying to stay in character.


	46. Map of High Fantasy Planetos

****

**Beyond the Wall**

1\. Fartown: A young (relatively speaking) settlement founded sometime around 214AC. More agreeable to southerners than Hardhome (due to its distance from Thenn) and known to contain small populations of Walrus Men and Children of the Forest. Specializes in trading rare furs and ivory.

2\. Hardhome: The oldest surviving Wildling settlement, founded prior to the Doom of Valyria. Only trades with Lorath and is very unfriendly to outsiders – especially northerners. Its most striking feature is the corpse of an Other nailed to the town’s gate. Has been burned to the ground twice by House Stark.

3\. Walrus Men Camp: A large camp of the Walrus Men, centered around a large stone called the Sleeping God. Rarely interacts with outsiders.

4\. Old Barrows: Three large tombs with their entrances arranged in a triangle facing each other. Often the site of a giant camp, the tombs are believed to contain several giant heroes from antiquity.

5\. Tomb of Joramun: The Tomb of Joramun, King Beyond the Wall. Built on the orders of House Stark and considered a place of pilgrimage for both Northerners and Free Folk. It is considered bad taste to commit murder on its grounds.

**Northos**

6\. Sea Dragon Corpse: Slain by Frostwing during a spat with Old Valyria.

7\. Sea Dragon Corpse: Slain by Frostwing and the Northern Fleet during the War of Iron and Gold.

8\. Frostwing’s Roost: The home (or at least favored resting area) of the Ice Dragon/God/Thing Frostwing, where he will most often be seen curling up in a massive cave. The island is forbidden to humans, except for once a year when a member of House Reed will bring a large cow or sheep across as a gift for the Dragon. Totally not a Sky Pillar reference.

9\. Greywater Isle: Seat of House Reed, named for the often-cloudy weather in the Slash. Often a stopping off point for ships making the journey to the eastern coast of Westeros, Greywater has a small port which shares the island’s name. The Reeds are known for trading several medicinal plants and a long running rivalry with the Three Sisters.

10\. Scorched Isle: Rendered uninhabitable by a battle between Frostwing and the Valyrian Freehold. Officially territory for House Stark, but is of little value.

11\. Old Man Cregan: A large steep rock formation, in the vague shape of a bearded man. The ‘Cregan’ it is named for is unknown, though it is possible it refers to King Cregan Stark, the Old Man of the North.

12\. Southpoint: The southernmost island in Northos and the seat of House Pansage. Occasionally the site of a territorial dispute between Northos and the Riverlands, which continues to this day.

**The Shivering Sea**

13\. The Giant’s Eye: A massive whirlpool, that has troubled sea trade since 145AC. Several sorcerers have attempted to calm the vortex but none have succeeded yet. Takes at least one ship a month.

**The Riverlands**

14\. Andalblood: An apparently haunted island, site of the mysterious disappearance of an entire Andal war host. The Wolf Lord, Frostwing and the Sea Queen all deny having anything to do with it. Mammoths however, flourish on the island where they have no natural predators.

15\. The Isle of Graves: Populated only by Banshees (akin to Fable II), this island is host to thousands of gravestones and tombs – all of them different styles, shapes and sizes. Disturbingly for those who live nearby, more tombs appear all the time with no explanation.

16\. Freyport: The seat of House Frey (and the location of their castle Greyfield) and the second biggest settlement in the Riverlands. One of the three major stopping off points for journeys through the Slash, this town has gathered an unsavory reputation both due to the actions of Lord Walder Frey (who has made no secret of his desire to usurp the Justmans) and the large number of cheap brothels, taverns and black markets that plague the area. Has been refused a city charter twice by the Iron Throne.

17\. Oldstones: The largest settlement in the Riverlands and one of only two cities (the other being Seaguard) and seat of the Lord Paramount of House Justman. The last of the three major stopping off points for trade through the Slash, Oldstones has prospered greatly – even with occasional attacks from Ironborn raiders. However, it is worried that Freyport may have begun to overtake it in power and that the Justmans may not be able to control the Riverlands for much longer. It was founded by Benedict Justman with a loan from House Stark and the agreement that the Riverlands would no longer claim Southpoint (a promise that lasted barely 30 years). Moved northwards from canon to benefit the story.

18\. The Stoneship: Not the landing point for the northern Rhoynah refugees (that was Oldstones), but the place they were granted land in exchange for swearing fealty to House Justman. The seat of House Garin (named after Garin the Great) who are known for being fiercely loyal to their Lord Paramounts as well as the traditional patrons of the northern Mother Rhoyne faith. Has a minor rivalry with Sunspear that flared up briefly in the aftermath of the War of the Faiths. Surrounded by imposing cliffs on all sides.

19\. Giant’s Toe: Founded by refugees from the Greystark rebellion, this town is the largest supplier of Southern Mammoths for the rest of Westeros. Though smaller than their northern brethren and untusked (which itself is a poignant reminder of the Greystark’s situation) their fur is considered excellent for hardwearing items. The refugee status of the castle’s lords was responsible for a frosty relationship between Northos and the Riverlands for many years, until the marriage of Lady Minisa Justman to King Brandon Stark in 2BC.

20\. Barrowbridge: Named for the large barrow located beneath the southern castle, this fortress used to be the seat of a cadet branch of House Frey. However due to that branch’s support of the Targaryens during Robert’s Rebellion, the castle was handed to House Selka – a cadet branch of House Garin. It has since been made illegal for toll-bridges in the Riverlands to charge more than a certain amount.

21\. The Hellpit: The site of one of Benedict Justman’s battles. Following an example from the Lannisters, a large tunnel was carved out below the battlefield to be collapsed at a moment’s notice. Considered an important pilgrimage for students of warfare. Inspired by the Battle of Aslan’s How.

22\. Lannfell: The site of the defeat of Lionel ‘Lamprey’ Lannister during the Westerland Invasion of the Riverlands. Following the battle the area was granted to Ryon Gardener, who founded a cadet branch of his house there. The story of his victory became a popular song.

23\. The Goodfort: Seat of House Goodman, a cadet branch of House Justman. Considered to be the heart of chivalry and the patrons of the Seven in the Riverlands, the Goodmans have always been trusted advisors for the Lord Paramounts. Several of them have served on the Kingsguard.

24\. The Field of Pity: The site of two famous battles for the fate of Westeros. The first was the ‘Andal Massacre’, where four of the Old Gods united to defend the Hollow Hill. The second was the defeat of Baelor the Mad’s main force by his uncle during the War of the Faiths. A large monument has been erected to commemorate both events and to carry the message ‘A man may believe what he wishes, follow who he wishes, worship who he wishes.’

**The Vale**

25\. Firelink Isle: The Seat of House Grendor, Firelink Isle has been generally ignored by history. Too rocky for decent farming, too small for conquering to be worth the effort – plus several very nasty currents in the area. The Grendors stayed out of Robert’s Rebellion and to this day, the Arryns have not noticed. Named for Dark Souls.

26\. Eagle’s Roost: Seat of House Redarryn and like the Eyrie in all aspects. The Redarryns have made several claims for the Falcon Throne, but have never managed to gather enough support for a decent effort. The mountain is also home to a large colony of giant eagles who dislike the ‘Featherless Ones’ and their presence on the mountain.

27\. Saloryson: A Lorathion colony formed by survivors of ‘the Silence’, the population of which prefers to stay among their own kind. Mistrusted by all the other settlers in the area, three times have the Arryns demanded the removal of the immigrants and four times have mountain clans invaded the area. Uniquely among all of Westeros, men and women are considered equal with all having the right to vote on village affairs and to train for combat. However, the lack of fresh blood has led to a disturbing rise in the amount of incest and child deformities. All the inhabitants share the same Lorathion appearance: tall, thin and with dark hair and eyes.

28\. Wyvern Peaks: A group of three mountains infested by Sothoryos Wyverns brought to Westeros by several traders. Many Vale Lord will send their sons to claim a wyvern as a rite of passage. Most of them survive.

29\. The Graveyard of Ships: A large area to the south of Sweetsister that contains the ruins of a great Andal Fleet destroyed by Frostwing and Echo. Most of the ships have now slipped beneath the waves making travel very difficult for those who do not know the area.

30\. Marauder’s Town: A moving Mountain Clan settlement, where many of the clans will meet to discuss business. A persistent thorn in the side of the Arryns who have burnt the village ten times, only for it to remerge a few months later. Also, home to Westeros’ only ‘bride market’.

31\. Griffin Barrow: The Tomb of the Griffin King, built by the Dwarves of Orknyth following his death in battle against the Falcon Knight. The barrow was filled with traps and built deliberately as a labyrinth, as a precaution against any Andals who wished to desecrate the corpse of the Dwarf-Friend. Apparently connected to Orknyth itself deep underground.

32\. Tomb of the Ten Hundred: The resting place of a thousand warriors of the Griffin King and the mystical figure known as ‘the Golem’. The tomb was constructed by the Falcon Knight following the Griffin King’s final death curse: “You may take the Vale for your own but your gods never will. All too soon, your own blood will turn away from the Seven and worship the Old Gods as well.”. Which his sons would do, horrified by the lengths their father had gone to so he could break the curse.

33\. Spriggan Lake: A small lake known for an unusually high amount of Spriggans in the area. Naturally this has made hunting and woodcutting in the area very difficult, leading to a sharp rise in protective amulets.

34\. Boatmurdered: A captured Dwarven Fortress, ruled by House Lanaryn. The site of many conflicts between the two kingdoms; one of which gave the fortress its new name after its lord was beaten to death with a canoe. Has an oddly high number of angry mammoths in the area. A Dwarf Fortress Reference.

**Orknyth**

35\. Mortis Deep: A monstrously deep mine, constructed slightly to the west of Orknyth. The primary source of all the dwarves’ wealth and an object of desire for many a Vale warlord. However, there is a growing worry that the lower depths have ventured too close to the Deep Dark.

**The Iron Islands**

36\. Ten Towers: The new capital of the Iron Islands and seat of House Harlaw. The Harlaws only have an uneasy control over the Ironborn, with many other lords openly desiring the return of House Greyjoy. An ugly keep with only eight standing towers, following the storms of 278AC.

37\. Az Jurrasin: Formerly the largest colony of Merlings, Az Jurrasin was heavily damaged during the ‘Fall of the Greyjoys’. Chunks of the underwater settlement were devastated both by the water witches of the Riverlands and the earth magic used to move Pyke. Named for the Jurassic Period.

38\. Az Camboria: A Merling colony. Named for the Cambrian Period.

39\. Az Ordovic: The largest surviving Merling Colony; Az Ordovic is sheltered between two of the islands from the great oceanic drifts. Named for the Ordovician Period.

40\. Az Triassin: A Merling Colony and the largest source of ‘Divers’, the Merling-Human hybrids. Named for the Triassic Period.

41\. Az Silurian: The smallest Merling colony and the one most affected by ocean storms and drifts. Was once stepped on by a Sea Dragon. Named for the Silurian Period and the Lizard people from Doctor Who.

42\. The Great Plunge: A massive underwater chasm which has been traditionally used by Ironborn Kings as a point of execution. Stones would be tied to the unfortunate’s feet before they were dropped into the depths. Often said by the Ironborn to contain the Hall of the Drowned God, which made the dropping of the Seastone Chair into the chasm by King Robert even more ironic.

**The Westerlands**

43\. Damon’s Wall: A fortification first built by Damon Lannister during the War of the Faiths, in an attempt to ensure his people could stay out of the conflict. A marvel of Dwarven engineering, the wall stands fifteen feet high for its entire length, with 25 fortified gatehouses built into its sides. To this day, the wall is kept well stocked by House Lannister who have recently built a large bust of Damon himself on the gatehouse leading to New King’s Landing.

44\. The Golden Crag: Formerly the seat of House Westerling, the castle was claimed by House Lannister following the former’s extinction during the Ironborn occupation. Since then it has been used as an heir’s seat and the wealth of Casterly Rock has allowed it to flourish far more than its meager mines would usually allow. The castle also sits upon one of the major trade routes from Lannisport to Erebos.

45\. Fair Castle: The seat of House Goldiron since the War of Iron and Gold and the subject of many an Ironborn raid. The island is unremarkable aside from an underwater tunnel connecting it to the mainland.

46\. Castamere: Formerly the seat of House Reyne, the castle has been given into the stewardship of Kevan Lannister until a suitable lord is chosen. The setting of a famous song called the ‘Rains of Castamere’, which tells the story of how the castle was sealed up to ensure those within died of suffocation.

47\. Red Lake: The former home of the legendary figure known as ‘the Sailor’, who waged his own campaign for the Iron Throne during the War of the Faiths. The village was burnt to the ground by the Tyrells as revenge for the man’s acts.

48\. Bleakport: The original landing point for Minum Dwarf-Father and the other refugees from Farthos. A small and otherwise unnoteworthy port, the area has only a small population of Dwarves who dislike the area.

49\. Ogre Country: An area of the Westerlands well known for being infested with Ogres, the (slightly) smarter cousins of trolls. Extermination attempts continue to this day, while the few villages in the area have noticeably high and strong walls which are heavily guarded at night.

50\. Bald Mountain: A Goblin Kingdom and the traditional enemy for many a Dwarven King. Most of the inhabited areas are underground (as with Erebos) and filled with hideously fiendish traps to catch intruders of guard. Surprisingly peaceful with non-dwarves however, up to having a small village at the mountain’s feet for trading. The inhabitants will ally with the dwarves in the event of a great danger however, such as against the Deep Ones, the Knockers or the Ratmen. Named for the movie, the ratmen come from Warhammer Fantasy.

51\. The Dragon-Pit: Not akin to the Old Dragonpit from King’s Landing, this pit was created as a trap during the Dance of the Dragons. When a dragon would land upon the field, the ground was designed to fold back and drop the beast into an underground lake before closing behind it. Unfortunately, it was never used.

**Erebos**

52\. The City of Erebos: The Greatest and First of the three Dwarven Kingdoms in Westeros, Erebos has stood unconquered for centuries. Even when faced with the power of a Sea Dragon only the above-ground areas were damaged, while the underground city continued to prosper. The city is both the largest and the deepest in Westeros, stretching under practically all its kingdom and down into the Deep Dark itself. The city is ruled by the Sons of Minum, currently Barabos, son of Terman. Named for Erebor from the Hobbit.

53\. Tronj-Knurl: The twin border fortresses of the Kingdom of Erebos, named after the brother who designed them. They were built following the attack of the Sea Dragon, to guard Erebos from any other threat of that scale. Connected underground to each other and the main city, they are impossible to siege and proud because of it.

**Eldrin**

54\. The City of Eldrin: Brother-City to Erebos (and likely connected to it underground), Eldrin is a relatively smaller city that mainly specializes in exporting volcanic materials and magma-forged items. The above-ground entrance into the city lies in a massive crater, behind which stands the volcano Death Mountain. The kingdom is ruled by the sons of Darbus. Reference to Zelda.

55\. Death Mountain: One of two known volcanoes in Westeros (the other being the Dragonmount), though thankfully long dormant. The source of all of Westeros’ volcanic materials, except for obsidian (which is also found at the Dragonmount).

**The Crownlands**

56\. New King’s Landing: The capital of the Seven Kingdoms, rebuilt after the Sea Dragon attack during the War of the Faiths. The city is host to many of the great buildings of the realm, including the Black Keep, the Sept of Daemon, the rebuilt Dragonpit (A Valyrian Temple), the King’s University (Historian Order) and the headquarters of many guilds. The city is also the largest in Westeros (and for that matter anywhere that isn’t a Free City) and as such has developed many ways of transport. From the flag system for transporting messages, to the winch towers and ‘tamed’ troll carts on the streets; King’s Landing is the true center of Westeros.

57\. Sea Dragon Corpse: Slain by Viserys II (disputed) during the Destruction of Old King’s Landing.

58\. Dragonstone: Formerly the crown prince’s seat, now the seat of House Baratheon of Dragonstone. A barren isle, most of Dragonstone’s value comes from its position to control trade in Bloodwater Bay and the Dragonmount; the old hatchery for Targaryen dragons. The island has been sacked three times, by rival Targaryens during the Dance of the Dragons, by Koridoran during the War of the Faiths and by Northos during Robert’s Rebellion.

59\. The Dragonmount: The former hatchery for Targaryen dragons, destroyed under the orders of Robert Baratheon. Only the volcano itself remains now, as well as whatever other factions managed to steal prior to the destruction. A valuable source of Obsidian.

60\. The Bloody Field: The Last Battle of Robert’s Rebellion, where survivors from the trident attempted to blockade the path to King’s Landing. They failed.

61\. Greyjoy’s Lament: The execution site of Harren ‘Chuckles’ Greyjoy, who was buried alive a stone sarcophagus facing the ocean. Per legend his ghost haunts the area, futilely attempting to convince people to cast his body into the ocean.

**The Reach**

62\. Newtown: The replacement city for Oldtown, built on the opposite bank following the destruction caused by a Sea Dragon. The city is ruled by a rebuilt House Hightower (formed by the marriage of the surviving House Hightower daughter and a second son of House Tyrell) from the Seaward Keep. The House’s power both over the city and in the Reach, has weakened considerably. The city is also home to the new Citadel of the Southern Maesters and the Honeywine University.

63\. Oldtown: Now a city of ruins, Oldtown has nevertheless seen some rebuilding efforts in recent years. The inhabited parts of the city are now estimated to be roughly the size of Saltpans. The Hightower itself has also been partly rebuilt, though purely as a lighthouse rather than a castle.

64\. The Honeywine Bridge: Built jointly to mark the Reach’s refusal to bow down to the Ironborn and to link up the existing roads with Newtown. A marvel of engineering, the bridge is often referred to as the first ‘Modern Wonder of the World’ in reference to Lomas Longstrider’s famous work.

65\. Horn Hill: Captured and sacked by the Yronwoods during the War of the Faiths, House Tarly’s former citadel is now ruled by House Greatoak, a cadet branch of House Oakheart. However, they do not possess the Valyrian Steel sword Heartsbane, for that was claimed as a spoil of war by the Yronwoods.

66\. Greyshield: A sunken island, formerly part of the Shield Islands. Was sunk during the magical backlash of the Salt Wife slipping into eternal slumber.

67\. Sea Dragon Corpse: The Sea Dragon responsible for both the attack on Erebos (disputed) and the Shield Islands, the beast died with the collapse of the Salt Wife.

68\. Grassy Vale: Ruled by House Agwhile since the First Great Schism of the Faith.

69\. Goldengrove: Ruled by House Goldayne since First Great Schism of the Faith. A cadet branch of House Dayne allowed to settle to bring peace to the border.

70\. The Phoenix’s Roost: A large, leafless wierwood tree, used by the phoenix Hallow as a roost and rebirth point. The tree is also inhabited by many other birds, who have been known to attack any unfriendly parties who venture too close. The phoenix is a nod both to Fawkes and the Deathly Hallows from Harry Potter.

71\. Peake’s Sept: The center of the Faith in Dorne (ironically) that split off from the first branch during the First Great Schism. Worship is practically identical to that of the Starry Sept, though the Stranger is referred to as ‘the Lord of the Sands’. The Seven Hells also feature much more prominently, with each commonly being associated with a sin due to the lauded epic ‘The Great Inferno’ (Dante’s Inferno reference. Obviously). While the Peakes themselves are extinct, they are respected as martyrs with many statues around the small town.

**The Stormlands**

72\. Griffin Colonies: The Breeding Grounds of House Connington, where they host their widely-valued stock of Griffins. Many knights, lords and kings have owned a Connington Griffin (including Brynden Justman, Rhaegar Targaryen and Argillac Durrundon) though only in Westeros as the cold in Northos is unhealthy for the creatures.

73\. The Great Shard: A massive shard of Skysteel from the heavens, this rock has been converted into a massive temple to the Storm King by the Durrundons and later, the Baratheons. The priesthood of the Storm King is unique among the Westerosi religions in being allowed to carry weapons as they are only used for ceremonial purposes and are blunt.

74\. Newhaven: Damaged during the Battle of the Maelstrom, the castle was rebuilt by House Dondarrion in the years that followed.

75\. Greenhaven: A ruined castle from the Battle of the Maelstrom that has not yet been resettled. The castle was most recently used as a hideout by Baratheon loyalists during Robert’s Rebellion and was briefly sieged by the Tyrells before news of the Trident reached the south.

76\. Daena’s Keep: The home and resting place of Daena the Defiant, where she was interred by her uncle to ensure she could avoid politics. Now ruled by House Defiant, a distant cadet branch of House Baratheon.

77\. The Storm Barrow: The tomb of the former god Elenei, built by her son Durram II. Ironically (considering its name), the barrow has never been troubled by storms with hurricanes literally diverting themselves to avoid it. The tomb has several legends that involve it, including the proven tale the Storm King will always visit the tomb once a week to lay a flower.

78\. The Lightning Rod: The castle of House Tenmen, built as a large spire to attract all the lightning in the area for magical purposes. Is perpetually falling apart as a result.

79\. The Haunted Marshes: The site of numerous battles in long forgotten wars (and several skirmishes during ‘the Troubles’) that flooded during the great storms of 45-40BAC. The marsh is now infested with Storm Spirits, Battlefield Ghouls and apparently, the living dead. Six times a necromancer has attempted to claim the region, using the inbuilt misery of the place to fuel his or her powers. Reference to Lord of the Rings.

**The Narrow Sea**

80\. The Spire: A mysterious structure of unknown origin that stands exactly halfway between the coast of Essos and Westeros. Records of it date back to the Long Night and of yet, no person has been able to enter inside. As far as we know. Reference to the Spire from Fable II.

**Sea of Dorne**

81\. Sharktooth: A sunken island, destroyed during the Battle of the Maelstrom. Was not considered a particularly heavy loss by any faction.

82\. Site of the Maelstrom: The approximate location of the center of the gods’ battle and the origin of the gigantic wave that devastated much of the Stormland and Dornish coast. The area gives off strange magical pulses to this day and instruments that are brought to close are known to break quickly. The area is considered a neutral zone by all kingdoms.

**United Dorne**

83\. Halfbridge: An odd castle built over some long dried up stream, the keep of Halfbridge is of no strategic importance. However, the castle has a long and famous history in the modern era, beginning with the signing of the Treaty of Dorne. Considered a neutral zone for the two kingdoms (and the only settlement allowed to rest on the border), the castle has been key to centuries of negotiation between Yronwoods and Martells to discuss both inside issues and outside threats. And uniquely among all of Westeros, the keep has never come under attack and the peace treaty has never been broken. Even Daeron I would not dare to damage the castle during his Conquest of Dorne.

**Western Dorne**

84\. Starfall: The seat of House Dayne and home of the Swords of the Morning, Starfall has had a long and varied history. The castle has been considered both the pinnacle of chivalry and the source of much evil (which Arthur Dayne’s actions did not help). The Dayne’s are nowadays considered loyal-ish bannermen to House Yronwood. Around the castle itself lies a large cavernous moat, created during the War between the Gods.

85\. Yronwood Wyvern Colony: Yes, the Sothoryosi Wyverns have found their way here too. Occasionally a Yronwood will ride one into battle.

86\. Wyl Cavern: A massive series of underground caves exposed during the War between the Gods that the castle itself is now beginning to fall into. On the bright side, it makes assaulting the castle very difficult as several Vulture Kings have discovered to their displeasure.

87\. Tullmon’s Harbor: One of several resting places of the Great Whale Tullmon, companion deity of Mother Rhoyne. The whale himself will visit this location in his slow circular journey between Dorne, the Riverlands and the original Rhoyne. The area is a popular location for marriages and other blessings. Reference to Lord Jaba-Jaba from Zelda.

**Eastern Dorne**

88\. Sy Nar: Formerly the town known as Godsgrace, the settlement was rebuilt following the War between the Gods. However, unlike other areas affected by the war, this town did not move on and has nourished a hatred for all deities to the present day. Some of the effects of this have been positive including a strong shipbuilding tradition, many powerful water witches and a surprisingly strong acceptance for open homosexuality. But the town is also extremely unfriendly to any religious people and has been linked to many a murder or assassination.

89\. Ghaston Grey: The prison island of the Martells, won by them following a game of Cryvasse. The island was resettled following the Battle of the Maelstrom.

90\. Ghost Hill: A ruined and uninhabited castle destroyed during the Battle of the Maelstrom. Has acquired a reputation for ghosts (though no dangerous ones).

91\. Bloodstone: One of the Stepstones, conquered by Eastern Dorne during the brief Dornish-Tyroshi war following the Battle of the Maelstrom. The seat of House Malarya, who must spend most of their time fighting off pirates. Interestingly enough, the island is almost a perfect mirror of Firelink Isle in the Vale. Despite the rumors, the island does not actually have lakes of blood.

92\. Mother’s Blessing: The sister town to Sy Nar (and frequent rival), built by the inhabitants of Godsgrace who weren’t willing to entirely turn against the gods. The town is famous for the creation of the Printing Press by a Quentyn Sands.

**The Koridoran Archipelago**

93\. Koridoran: The largest island in the archipelago. Surrounded by inhospitable cliffs on all but one side and dominated by the central Korespeak. The island is home to two cities (Koresport and Lorishal) along with several small villages, all fueled by the Fountain’s Stream. Is said in legend to have been formerly part of the landscape of Lorath.

94\. Koresport: The largest city and capital of the archipelago. Ruled directly by House Koridan, though their personal keep is further inland. Home to a thriving port and several markets, along with a variety of temples for both inhabitants and visitors. The center of the port is dominated by a large structure built to house the Oceanflame, a superweapon of unknown origin capable to setting the nearby ocean literally on fire. The weapon was used for devastating effect in several of Koridoran’s wars, including the Sea Dragon attack in the War of the Faiths.

95\. Lorishal: The second city of the islands, Lorishal is an inland city of the southern shore of the Fountain’s Stream. Noticeable for a unique Runic Guild, dedicated to deciphering the ancient languages of the extinct cultures of the world. The seat of House Rambon.

96\. Deepcore: The castle of House Koridan, built in the strange twisting style of the mazemakers. Much of the structure of the fortress is underground, including the notorious caverns used as both prison and vault by the Lord of the Isles. Does not have any relation to Dwarvish architecture.

97\. The Fountain of Youth: A heavily restricted location at the summit of the Korespeak. Visitation is forbidden without the permission of the Lord of Koridoran; trespassers will be slain on sight. Guarded always by the Fountainguard, the elite soldiers of the archipelago. Attempting to drink from the fountain with the ceremonial goblet is considered the most serious crime by the island courts.

98\. Sea Dragon Corpse: The inland corpse of the Sea Dragon killed by the Oceanflame. Only the skull is now visible, the bone being moved to a seaside cliff as both a memorial of the battle and a warning.

99\. Pyke: Stolen by the Koridans during the Fall of the Greyjoys, the island was moved far to the south to join the rest of the Archipelago. Most of the Ironborn population was not allowed to travel with the island, even if they possessed significant property. The island is currently ruled a cadet branch of House Koridan, operating out of the castle of -----. The castle of Pyke collapsed into the sea during the transfer.

100\. Isle of Flowers: A sparsely inhabited island, ruled by House Greenacre. The island is home to many varieties of plant from all over the world (though Bloodoak trees have been prevented from joining them). Bloodoak tress are from the Edge Chronicles but here they are native to Sorthoryos.

101\. New Morosh: The Smallest of Koridoran’s Major Islands, ruled by House Delton. This island is home to most of Koridoran’s shipbuilding industry, fueled by the large forest of this island and several of the smaller ones surrounding it.

102\. Harvest Isle: Mostly inhabited by farmers, this island is known for several varieties of sausage and pastry. The island is administrated by the main Koridan House, though House Hobas has a small keep on the south of the island.

103\. Qarlon: The seat of House Stoneford, a Half-Dwarven House who fled Erebos after an unsuccessful rebellion. Despite the Dwarven traditions being held in high esteem on the island, the inhabitants look entirely human due to a lack of fresh Dwarven Blood. The second largest of Koridoran’s islands and home to the third largest settlement.

104\. Newcastle: The newest settlement in the archipelago (excluding transplanted ones from Pyke) and the first to be built in the Essosi Renaissance style. Home to a large aqueduct built to transport water from a solitary mountain spring. The seat of House Delidan, a cadet branch of House Delton. Not actually named for the town in England.

**Ones I forgot:**

105\. Rookridge: The site of the lair of Firtohmarah, a chimera who stalked the Riverlands 100 years before the conquest. The beast was brought down by the actions of Kit Tully, who descendants have wielded the spear made from the creature’s bones ever since. The name of the area comes from Fable II.

106\. The Golden Tooth: The primary defensive castle of the Westerlands and seat of House Lefford. Has become unfortunately poor in recent years due to the presence of a Knocker in the mines of the area.

107\. Orknyth: Home of the Sons of Fernyth, Orknyth has a long and troubled history with the rest of the area known as the Vale. Numerous wars were launched to conquer the dwarven kingdom, all of which failed after a high price in blood for both sides. Even now the two kingdoms are constantly at each other’s throats, for both sides have long memories. The city itself is smaller than Erebos, with only the main entrance to the city above ground.

108\. Universities: From top to bottom – The Laketown University, Westwatch University, University of Northos, Manderly’s University, Freyport University, Oldstones University, University of Seaguard, University of Fairmarket, Gulltown University, The University of Lannisport, Duskendale University, King’s University, Tumbleton University, Bitterbridge University, University of Longtable, University of Highgarden, Honeywine University, University of Dorne, Koresport University.

The centers of learning implemented by the Historian order, that sprung up around Westeros following the Second Great Schism. The exceptions are the ones in Northos, which are run by the Northern Maester Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saloryson, Tronj-Knurl, Ornkyth and Sy Nar were contributed by Titan's Chronicler.


	47. Rodrick III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not go gentle into that good night...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 47**

Rodrick Harlaw

Ten Towers, New Capital of the Iron Islands - 11th Garthtide 299AC

Having someone shout at you was a tiring business, even in a relaxing place like my solar.

"Are you insane Rodrick?" shouted Harras, a distant cousin of mine on my late father's side. "It's been a month since that Lizardman attacked you and you've done nothing about it!" Inwardly, I sighed again.

"As I've told you Harras" I said, "I have actually done a surprising amount. Nothing overt yet, due to our 'friends' on the mainland; but enough to ensure our safety." Granted, the first of these actions had been to buy a new stronger window, but the rest had been both dedicated to reinforcing the islands in case of another war and discovering who was responsible for my visitor.

_And that investigation has turned up a surprising amount._

Not on the subject of who exactly had sent the assassin, but on the existence of several other groups planning their own dominion over the Iron Islands. A large number of people waiting to meet the noose. Some of them had simply planned to take the throne by force, others to prop up Euron or Asha as puppet rulers. A group of Drowned Men (now all _drowned_ regrettably) had even been planning a Kingsmoot for after my murder. It was an interesting idea, as the last Kingsmoot was before Aegon's Conquest - but could not be allowed.

_As I said, I will not force the Iron Islands into another war. Even with..._

"The Greenlanders fight among themselves now" stated Harras, refusing to back down; "Now is the perfect time to strike!"

"Against who?" I demanded, refusing to stand from my chair; "The Vale? The Riverlands? The Reach? Northos?" I pointed sporadically to the locations on the map. "We don't know who our enemies are."

"All of them are our enemies!" yelled Harras, "All of them hate the Ironborn! Any one of them would have gladly sent the assassin!"

"Which Harras" I spat, "Is why we can't do 'anything' as you put it! Would you have me repeat Balon's idiocy? Attack them all so that they turn on us? Are you mad?" In the corner where she was pretending to read a book, I saw Asha flinch. Was I being to hard on her father? Perhaps, but his had cost thousands of Ironborn lives. Including my sons.

_Theomore. Benfred. My boys, did you curse me when you fell?_

No, I wasn't too harsh on the man. Balon's idiocy was without end, the fool determined to reclaim an era of history that according to my books never existed. Why turn away from trade to attack a kingdom that outnumbered us twenty to one? Why turn away from a path that was slowly ensuring the prosperity of the Iron Islands, to instead anger our neighbors and scare away our friends? The aftershocks were bad enough that even now several years later, barely any ships would come to the islands for trade - or even to rest for repairs.

And it was even worse with fools like Harras here, brought up by my fool of an uncle. As expected by Ironborn law I had taken him on as my heir, trying in vain to teach him some common sense and understanding of diplomacy. But now looking up at the young man as he raged, I was filled with shame and dread.

"The Greenlanders are responsible for our losses, not Balon!" Harras screeched, the veins on his neck standing rigid. "They killed your nephews remember? Rodrick at Seaguard, Maron at Erebos, Theon on Pyke itself! Or do you not care-"

" _That_ , boy is going too far" I spat, "I know you and Rodrick had some love affair going on as boys, but he and his brothers were _my family_. My sister never recovered from their loss, so do not _dare_ suggest that I am _happy_ they are gone." Even with his Valyrian Steel sword strapped to his back, Harras briefly looked worried. "Now leave, I have business to attend to." Faced with my glare, Harras snarled and left. Even he would not dare draw a blade under my roof, for fear both of me and the Drowned God.

Asha stared after him, as silent as she had been since the Lizardman's attack. That wasn't to say she had been talkative before then, the girl seeing too much violence done to her family at too early an age. But now has face was permanently an solemn mask, with eyes downcast and mouth closed.

"They were my brothers too" she finally said, "and whatever their faults, I still loved them."

"I know."

"Theon died because of my silliness Uncle" my niece murmured, still staring out into space. "We were looking for a hiding place, terrified by the sound of the bombardment outside. And I-" She trembled. "I...let go of him when the soldiers appeared. I ran and left him behind to save myself. I was so terrified of dying, I didn't want to join Rodrick and Maron-"

"Asha" I cut in, "There was nothing you could have done." The Greenlanders would have killed you both if you hadn't run, Lord Tywin would have allowed nothing else.

"But there was" she replied, "I killed my baby brother, uncle - not my father. Not the Greenlanders." And she swept from the room, leaving me staring after her.

\----------------

Later that evening, once the sun had dipped below the horizon and the constellations had appeared, I made my quiet way to my niece's chambers. The Reaper's Lantern (called the Crone's Lantern on the mainland) where shining bright tonight, which made up for today's new moon. It had taken far too long for me to finish my work after Harras's interruption and Asha's breakdown, the two events leaving me with a headache. Eventually I had just given up and asked Donnel to go over a few of the less important ones when he got a chance tomorrow.

"Of course milord" he had replied, before scampering off to his room, close by to my own rooms as befitted a high ranking servant. I had briefly considered doing the same, as a good sleep would probably had solved my headache. But my niece came first as always. Now I stared at the door to her chambers, built of heavy oak procured from before the rebellion. A small drawing of a kraken had been scratched into the wood by Asha as a little girl, soon after she first arrived here. For comfort perhaps? I knocked to announce my presence.

"Enter" said my niece's voice from inside, her voice muffled by the wood and stone. Before I did so I glanced up the corridor. Something felt odd about tonight, some instinct trying to make itself known. A bead of sweat down my spine, a sense that eyes were watching...or maybe it was just an old war wound aching in the cold.

"How are feeling?" I asked, pushing open the door but not yet moving inside. Asha was sat on her bed, her hands working furiously on a small carving of a Phoenix - probably based on Hallow, the bird known to inhabit the Reach. Similar carvings sat on other surfaces around the room, piled on top of books and dressers and the windowsill. My eyes were drawn to a group of particularly old ones; a man, a woman, three boys and a young girl.

"Fine" she said, focussed entirely on the small statuette, "You didn't need to come. I'm sorry for my comments earlier."

"Don't be" I replied, sitting down next to her. I considered even putting an arm round her but relented. "We all sometimes need to let out our emotions and I know...I haven't been around much these last years." When Asha had been younger I would often allow her to sit by me and play while I sorted out reports and similar. But as she had got older, so too had the new generation of Ironborn. That group including Harras who did not know why we had lost the rebellion, who did not know the cost of war, who had not tired of bloodshed. And there hunger for vengeance had weighed on my time. "You are my sister's daughter Asha, I truly wish we were able to speak more. You are not a burden."

"The others seem to think so" she muttered, "all your servants and 'friends'. It was fine when I was little, but ever since then they've never shut up about how all my suitors are causing trouble, about how I'm a threat to your house - Marlon in the kitchens had the nerve to ask me if I was in contact with my _uncle_. I don't know how I would accomplish that, I haven't been off Harlaw since I first arrived here." Mentally I had to confirm those points, except the Euron one of course. Asha's many suitors were attracted by only one thing, her connection to the former Lord Paramounts of the Iron Islands. Having her as a bride would be a perfect rallying point for any aspiring lord or 'king', especially now the Balon was being revered as a martyr. Combined with that were the rumours that I planned to adopt her as my heir due to dissatisfaction with Harras - false, of course as the Greenlanders would not take kindly to a reborn House Greyjoy and I wouldn't do that to my cousin without a legitimate cause. And I was still sure that the boy would gain wisdom with age. Perhaps it was time for him to have kids of his own, to wear him out and temper his soul.

_But you Asha, are still my niece. That, above all else is what matters._

"They are servants for a reason Asha" I stated, "and they will blame anything they can when they feel they're being overworked. Nothing is your fault." I sighed and finally wrapped an arm around her. "All your life you've been controlled by others, with no choices of your own - no options not decided first by your father, your brothers, myself. I confess, after my sister's suicide I wasn't able to bear letting you out of my site; my paranoia imploring me to keep you here, where it was safe. Too many hated us, or wanted to use you to let me risk allowing you to experience the outside world."

_I was scared, honestly. Too much had already been lost._

"I..." Asha began, finally looking up from her carving.

Harras burst into the room, shouting furiously. "Rodrick, Asha!" he gasped for breath, "There...there are soldiers invading the keep! Somehow they've already got past the outer walls! And Asha, _your uncle is leading them_!"

_Euron._

To my horror I noticed that Harras was bleeding from a cut on his cheek and limping along, one leg dragging behind the other. This was no cold-hearted prank. "Where are they at the moment?" I barked, rising to my feet and pulling a dagger out from my belt. To my annoyance I realised that my sword have been left in my chambers, I never considering that I might have needed it in my own home.

"They were attacking the kitchens when I fled, slaughtering the servants" Harras replied, "But they were moving fast Rodrick, they'll be here soon." I nodded and pulled Asha up.

"We'll have to move quickly then" I said, "Follow me." As we sped through the stone corridors I ruminated on how Euron had gotten inside. The last I had heard, he was in the Vale _on the wrong side of Westeros_. How had he got here without me knowing? "They must have got in through the toilets, probably climbed up the holes."

"Where are we going?" Asha asked, a small axe and her carving knife occupying her hands. I was worried to note that she was in a nightdress, unsuitable for running or fighting.

"My solar" I replied, "There's a secret tunnel hidden in the floor - we'll sneak out that way then I can rally my forces to take back the castle." As we hurried along I imagined the sound of footsteps behind us, the sounds of combat - axe, sword, bow. But it really was as quiet as the grave.

"In here quickly" I hissed as we finally reached my solar. "Harras, guard the door. No one is to enter alive." The trapdoor had been hidden under a heavy lion pelt, from one of the animals with skin as strong as armour. Of course they were extinct nowadays in Westeros, having been hunted down by the Dwarves of Erebos and Eldrin. The trapdoor itself had been built out of oak, which I now cursed as a heaved at it.

Finally I got the trapdoor open, the oak crashing to the ground. Harras groaned when the noise was answered by a shout from beyond the locked door. I raised over to grab my family's ancestral scythe Milkwater, even as I gestured for Asha to scramble into the tunnel. "Go!" I shouted at Harras who was standing at the already straining door, Valyrian Steel sword drawn. "Get out of here! I'll buy you and Asha time!" I could hear laughter from beyond the door now, even as it shook on its hinges.

"But Rodrick-"

"Go!" I pushed him towards the hole, "You are the Lord of Harlaw now. Protect Asha. Do not repeat Balon's mistakes!" Harlaw stared at me conflicted. "Promise me."

"I will." Then he fled from the room, just as the door exploded inwards.  
The first few of Euron's men had little time to acknowledge their success, as a swung Milkwater and decapitated them. But more rushed me, even as I stood my ground.

_Strike. Dodge. Strike. Parry. Strike. Dodge. Parry. Strike. Dodge. Dodge. Dodge._

My right hand fell severed onto the floor and I was shoved down myself. Men rushed down to the trapdoor and I dimly hoped Asha and Harras had got far enough to...

"Hello again, Rodrick" said Euron, one remaining eye glowing with bloodlust, dressed in some dark, twisted armour.

"I..."

"Save your strength, my friend" he said, as my eyes began to droop. "I still have need of you I'm afraid, but don't worry. Your blood will serve a much greater purpose than you could have ever imagined."

 

**Extras 46:**

**Excerpt from 'A Short Guide to the Gods of Westeros, Northos and Essos' by Maester Wyman**

**The Drowned God and the Salt Wife**

**Origins**

There are several myths telling the story of the origin of the Drowned God and his wife, the twin deities of the Iron Islands. None of them are accepted by a clear majority of the Iron Islanders, or indeed by a majority of the Drowned Men, the priests of the deities.

The first (and most recounted in preserved documents) of these myths, is the story of the Grey King. Following the cataclysmic events of the Long Night, this Old God was given dominion over the Iron Islands - then a barren and depopulated archipelago. Through that did not last as the other gods, jealous of his success soon ruined his work. Frostwing itself scourged the island of Harlaw, reducing the island back to a ruin. Angered, but not distraught the god began again - this time making a pact with the pirate queen Yara to settle the Iron Islands, knowing her people's worship would give him the power to make the islands great again. But the other Old Gods, jealous once more refused to acknowledge Yara's retirement from piracy and attacked the fledgling Iron Islands to wipe put Yara's people. And at this point of no return, the Grey King finally ordered his people to reave without end - to punish those who had betrayed them. Yara herself, killed in the fighting was resurrected as his wife.

There are several issues with this tale. The first and most striking is that while Yara Bracken did exist, she lived at least 4 centuries after the first records of the Drowned God according to the family records and the date on her tomb. She also had no known connection with the Iron Islands, with her piracy primarily occurring in the Stepstones. The second is the behaviour of Frostwing. While the dragon is known to have attacked the island of Harlaw on two occasions, both of those were following attempted attacks on Northos.

The second myth is tied much more closely to the Merlings tribes who have made their home in the small archipelago. According to this myth, the Drowned God and his wife were the first 'Divers', the hybrids of Human and Merling blood that are occasionally born on the island. Their combined heritage enabled them to unite both species of the island and form a kingdom that lasted a thousand years. The territory of the Ironborn stretched over much of modern day Westeros; with almost the entire Riverlands and large chunks of the Westerlands and Reach being controlled. However the kingdom collapsed under the power of Edric Ironbreaker, a king of House Durrundon who served the Storm God.

There are several issues with this myth as well, though less than the previous. Firstly there is no recorded time when the Ironborn controlled as much territory as the tale suggests; though they did manage substantial areas on the mainland. Edric Ironbreaker is also known now to have been three separate people, only one of which could have existed during the period the myth suggests. Finally, it is unlikely that the thousand year lifespan suggested could have happened, for Merling-human hybrids only commonly live for around sixty years.

The third and final common explanation, is the 'Legend of the Sea's Marriage', akin in some ways to the origin of the Otherbloods in Northos. According to this legend, it was the Salt Wife who began as the deity - then called the Voice-of-the-Waves. The Drowned God (claimed by most worshippers as an ancestor) was a lowly fisherman who fell deeply in love with the primordial seas and so bound himself and the goddess together in marriage. Thus the seas would always be favourable for the Ironborn people, while sudden storms and hidden currents battered their enemies.

This version of the tale has the least issues with it; partly due to the lack of information about the date, partly due to the vagueness of the story itself. The Salt Wife has been suggested to originate from the same Pantheon that contains the Voice-of-Winter and the former Blind God of Lorath; though this view is rejected by the Ironborn themselves who regard all other gods as mere nature spirits (with the exception of the Storm God and Frostwing). The concept of godly marriage is another matter however. Uniquely, most Maesters and Historians agree that obtaining godhood by marrying another god is impossible at worst and unlikely to have any positive effects at best. The common theory is that the 'new god' would merely leach off the other, with very little power of their own. It is also notable that no documents exist to explain how such a ritual could be performed, though in fairness many of them could have been destroyed in war or by the passing of time.

**Behaviour**

Not much can be said on how either of the gods have behaved due to the events of the past thousand years. The Salt Wife has not been awake (and therefore active) since the War of Iron and Gold and the collapse of Ironborn power on the mainland. In truth it is debatable as to whether or not she has 'faded'; passed on from the mortal realm like the Warrior, Vhaegal, the Prince and the Blind God. The old records only describe her as foul tempered, cruel and heartless to those who did not have her favour.

The Drowned God too has weakened in recent history, though not to the extent of his wife (perhaps fuelled by the frequent sacrifices made by the Drowned Men). Occasionally he will pick a Ironborn to serve as his champion; imbuing them with greater strength, speed and skill on the ocean. Ironically, his chosen men are immune to drowning. Interestingly the men can be blessed for their skill in strategy or trading as well as for skill with weapons, even though such things are considered craven by many adherents of the 'Old Way'. This might be the reason for why neither Balon or Harren 'Chuckles' Greyjoy received the blessing, even though famous reavers such as Rodrick 'Ironheart' Blacktyde, Theon Codd and Harren Hoare have.

The Drowned God is also known to curse those of his subjects who murder another Ironborn, marking them with a small tooth on a pendant. This behaviour has contributed to the absolute taboo on Kinslaying on the islands, even more than elsewhere in Westeros.

 

**Titan's Extras 1:**

**An excerpt from ‘Histories of the Kings Volume 15: King Aegon the Dragonborn' by King’s Historian Maegar**

The fate of King Aegon V is one that is highly controversial amongst both historians and religious figures to this day.

In his final days, Aegon’s thoughts were consumed by dragons; he requested that any scrolls, tomes or other scraps pertaining to the subject be brought to him from within Dragonstone that had survived the previous two sackings. Some whispered that the Valyrian Pantheon was poisoning his mind in a futile attempt to bring back dragons, ever since their power was diminished when Baelor I burned vast quantities of non-Faith texts during his reign.

At the Targaryen residence of Summerhall, Aegon gathered various sorcerers and members the Valyrian faith in order to enact a grand ritual; he also had a petrified dragon egg brought from Dragonstone. He was going to attempt to revive the power that his ancestors wielded.

What happened next is well-documented.

When Aegon shed his blood on the runes, both he and the egg were consumed by brilliant white-hot flames; the screams of the king were still heard even as the magical fire consumed the whole residence.

He was eventually discovered in the crumbling ruins, but by then he was not even recognizable: His face was branded with many Valyrian runes, his eyes two pools of gold, a pair of horns sprouted from the top of his head, claws replacing his hands and feet. Two wings had sprouted from his back also, wrapped around his naked form.

No one knows what Aegon said to his son when he was confronted by him, but barely a few days later Jaehaerys was crowned as the next king and Aegon was travelling by boat to Essos.

Perhaps we will never know.

 

**Titan's Extras 2:**

**Constellations in the Sunset Kingdoms by Alyssa the Great, Prophetess of Lorath, founder of Saloryson.**

As the customs of Westeros are different from our own, so are their magical traditions. While we in Lorath have drawn out strength from the Fountain for generations, from what I have seen the Westerosi draw their power from the stars themselves. That is not to say that certain families or regions do not excel in certain aspects of magic - for example the Durrandons with lightning and the Martells with water - similar to our former brethren at Koresport. Also interesting is their application of certain personalities and physical abilities to those born under a specific sign.

I have made a list based on what our neighbors have told us:

 **The Anvil (14th Aegonion - 17th Visenion):** _Those born under the sign of the Anvil are usually drawn to the forge, and have a tendency for making items with unparalleled quality._

 **The Archer (18th Visenion - 13th Rhaenion):** _Those born under the sign of the Archer are blessed with excellent eyesight and reflexes._

 **The Auroch (14th Rhaenion - 19th Hugortide):** _Those born under the sign of the Auroch are known for their strength, determination and diligence._

 **The Basilisk (20th Hugortide - 15th Minumfest):** _Those born under the sign of the Basilisk are known for their great cunning and viciousness._

 **The Berserker (16th Minumfest - 10th Garthtide):** _Those born under the sign of the Berserker lust for violence, and fight in battle with unparalleled fury._

 **The Crone’s Lantern (11th Garthtide - 28th Garthtide):** _Those born under the sign of the Crone’s Lantern are wiser than most others and possess a sharp wit._

 **The Dragon (1st Viserion - 14th Viserion):** _Those born under the sign of the Dragon are usually great leaders, as well as ambitious or domineering._

 **The Galley (15th Viserion - 10th Brandonfest):** _Those born under the sign of the Galley are drawn to maritime matters, and are great swimmers._

 **The Giant (11th Brandonfest - 23rd Brandonfest):** _Those born under the sign of the Giant will grow to be rather well-muscled and tall in height. They may also look more primal in appearance._

 **The Phoenix (24th Brandonfest - 15th Septonion):** _Those who are born under the sign of the Phoenix will live much longer lives than a normal human. They may also have a fascination with sorcery, flames and song._

 **The Shadowcat (16th Septonion - 30th Duramfest):** _Those born under the sign of the Shadowcat are nimble, agile and like to explore._

 **The Zorse (31st Duramfest - 13th Aegonion):** _Those born under the sign of the Zorse are known to be fierce or foul-tempered._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last two extras were penned by 'The Titan's Chronicler' who is now working with me on this story.


	48. Edmure III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Pines were roaring, all on the heights...

**A High Fantasy Planetos Part 48**

Edmure Justman

Outside the Golden Tooth, Border-Castle of the Westerlands - 18th Garthtide 299AC

  
I sat in my tent, alone save for the distant noise of guards and sentinels chatting. My hands were clenched around a pendant Roslin had given me before I left Oldstones, a tiny piece of jade her mother had given to her before her passing. "A good luck charm?" I had asked.

"A Promise. Come back to me."

_I will Roslin. For you and for our child._

The camp outside the Golden Tooth was a lonely place, quiet and solemn with the tension that would fall before a battle. Many of the soldiers and some of the lords had enlisted the aid of a whore to starve off this oppressive feeling, but I could not. My family was seen as the height of honour; so much so that a single rumour of infidelity could have terrible consequences for both myself, Roslin and our future children. So I sat in the dark and ignored my soul's longing for company and comfort. Soon I would have to force myself to sleep; but my eyes wouldn't close, my mind wouldn't stop racing.

_Have I done the right thing in coming here?_

If I stepped outside my tent I would be able to see the lights of the Golden Tooth, the entrance to the Westerlands and the castle Kevan Lannister sat in at this very moment. We weren't so close to be in arrow range - that would be foolishness - but we were near enough to prevent any army from entering the Riverlands without a cataclysmic battle. The barricade would make defeating our army very costly, built from wood floated down the Red Fork and stone harvested from an abandoned quarry to the east. It would take a ocean of blood to storm the defensive wall, especially as the dwarves could not dig under us or use earth magic for fear of disturbing the Knocker in the area; one of the prophetic cave dwellers that the Dwarves feared above all else.

My plan wasn't to invade the Westerlands, where my armies while well trained would surely be destroyed in a kingdom where the enemy could use mines and caves to appear and disappear from any direction. That would make keeping a secure supply train near impossible, something that was absolutely required unless I wanted the army to starve. No, it was better to fight the Lannisters and their full-blooded cousins on our own lands and in a position of strength where they couldn't use their full power. Besides which, an open field like this would be better for some of my troops; such as the mammoths and the the water witches. A legion of builders I had brought south with me had spent the previous two days diverting a section of the Red Fork northwest so that it would close enough to assist them.

"My Lord?" said a quiet voice from the tent-flap. It was my current squire Willem, the second son of Lady Obara Garin - the Lady of 'The Stoneship' on the western coast. I had taken the boy on after my previous squire Olyvar had risen to knighthood. "My Lord, the scouts have reported back to us." I rose from my chair.

"What news do they bring Willem?" I asked, "Anything about the enemy's forces?" I had sent out scouts of course, though few in number considering how close we were to the fortress. More had been sent in the other directions, to check that no force from King's Landing was marching upon us - though I imagined they would be more concerned with King Renly. And for that matter, with the Vale force led by my uncle Brynden.

"Yes, my lord" Willem replied, "The enemy is smaller than we feared, primarily human or halfborn in origin. But they do have several trolls my lord and giant boars, and Rila thought she could see catapults in their camp." Rila was Willem's older sister, one of Lady Obara's massive brood. She was well known in the Riverlands for having five daughters and two sons, not all of them from the husband.

"Anything else?" I questioned the boy, "Any groups of theirs sent to flank us or such?" Willem shook his head. "Off to bed with you then, get yourself rested before tomorrow." He scampered out of my tent, seeming more like a frightened rabbit than the shark his House Crest showed. But I was too hard on him. The news he brought was good, better than I had expected or feared. Granted, I would have preferred to be told that they were tiny compared to my force - any commander would - but I would be happy with this. The news that the Dwarven nations had apparently refused to give help to Tywin pleased me, as I had heard horror stories from my uncle of the dreaded Dwarven Phalanxs and other tactics of war.

_I'll feel much better if those stay aimed at the goblins._

The Trolls were a slight concern though. At close range, one alone of them would be treacherous to an army's survival. A whole score of them required that my archers and the water witches took them out immediately before they could reach our forces. If not, the mere presence of them would frighten the horses and tear through infantry and cavalry. The mammoths might be able to stop them. Might being the key word. But what choice did I have?

I fumbled over to my bed, nearly tripping over a bucket in the half-dark. I would need some sleep for tomorrow, lest I make a mistake that could lead to my army's defeat and I breaking my promise to Roslin. But first I knelt before my prepared basin and prayed.

"Mother River, Father Whale;  
Rulers of Safe and Salt.  
Protect my brethren and my soul.  
Carry me safely and bring me home."

It occurred to me that Kevan Lannister was probably doing the same in his camp, only to the Stone God rather than Mother Rhoyne.

\----------------

The following morning dawned cloudy, which was good as otherwise my army might have been facing into the sun. From the wooden barricade I could see the Lannister knight arranging his troops, as Lords Piper and Tully did with mine. I had given them the command of the army, partly so as to ensure their loyalty - partly because it would be their castles that would come under assault if our force was defeated.

I had already had Willem dress me in my armour of course and the weight of Sevenstar - my family's Valyrian Sword, taken during the Andal Conquest- was reassuring against my hip. My horse had already been saddled. Roslin's charm was tucked securely in my tunic. While I would not be able to lead from the front, as I had never been good enough with the lance I would still partake in the battle where possible. It was good for the soldiers to see their leader striving alongside them, even if I would be protected by ten personal guards at my uncle's insistence in a letter.

_'An army without a commander is a body without a head nephew. No good would come of you falling in battle.'_

No good ever comes from war, Uncle. My death would be the least of it. I strode down to the waiting guards, abandoning my position on the wall. It was time.

 

**Extras 48:**

**Extract from 'Hallow to Barrow: The Legends of Westeros' by Ser Benjen Bracken**

**Kit Tully and the Beast of Rookridge**

_'Run through the woods and run through the valleys!_  
_Fir-tor-mar-ah!_  
_Pay now the price in blood, wine or water!_  
_Fir-tor-mar-ah!_  
_Climb in a tomb and offer it tribute!_  
_Fir-tor-mar-ah!_  
_Or you be dead and your spirit tribute!_  
_FIR-TOR-MAR-AH!!!'  
__\- The First Verse of 'The Beast of Rookridge' by Kit Tully - Original Lyrics_

The slaying of the chimera Firtohmarah is a beloved tale throughout the Riverlands region of Westeros, often told to children to spur them onto the righteous path and by Septons to espouse the virtues of knighthood (which is ironic as Kit Tully likely worshiped Mother Rhoyne). The tale tells of the great hunt launched by Tully to hunt down Firtohmarah, who had been stalking the Riverlands for a decade; demanding tribute in the form of human sacrifice from villages and castles lest it destroy them.

And none could stand against it. Against this hybrid of lion, griffin, hound and serpent any weapon was useless. Swords would break on it's hide, arrows would fail to penetrate through to the muscle. Even a ballista launched from a castle failed to kill the creature. The chimera was forever hungry and any who tried to attack it were swiftly eaten. According to legend as well as Tully's song, the beast would devour their souls as well their bodies, his greed extending even into the spirit realm. But there is no proof of this, nor will there likely ever be.

The beast's reign of terror would come to an end roughly two hundred years prior to Aegon's conquest, though conflicting accounts place the date as 201BC, 200BC and 198BC. Under the command of Kit Tully, heir to Riverrun a great band of hunters was formed to finally hunt down and destroy the beast. The hunters tracked the beast to the ruined castle of Rookridge, on the western coast and there they lured it into a trap. Tying a tripwire of mammoth hair across a ruined corridor, the Rivermen waited for Firtohmarah to catch their scent and charge. Once he did, the wire entangled his legs and weighed down by heavy posts, prevented him from moving. And with this opportunity, the Rivermen forced another rope around its neck and strangled the Chimera to death.

Once dead, the beast lost any enchantment on its fur preventing it from being able to cut and sliced as normal. The large hide on the floor of Riverrun's great hall is testament to that. But the creature's bones were still exceptionally strong, leading Tully to carve a large spear from them which had been wielded by his House ever since.

**The Flying Titan and the Old Kraken**

_"Ram it again boys! If we bring it down I'll see all of you drown in gol-ahhhhhh!"  
\- Last Words of Admiral Balero Sybalis, before being taken by the Old Kraken_

From the port of Saloryson to the great city of Braavos, sailors and fishermen alike whisper of the phantom ship known to haunt the upper reaches of the Narrow Sea - the Flying Titan. Said to be captained by a man known only as 'the Devil of the Seas', this galleon has haunted the sea passages and the coasts for many a generation; destroying ships and their crews without remorse.

But slaughter is not the only reason he is feared. According to tales of mariners deep into their drinks, the 'Demon' is not a man. He is said to have taken the sea into himself (akin perhaps to the Drowned God) and his crew, forging their very selves into a hybrid of mortal and monstrosity. As the tale goes, 'They are more part of the ocean than man now.' However, neither the crew nor the captain can compare to the true master of 'The Flying Titan'; the sea monster only known as the Old Kraken.

In truth the monster has very little in common with an actual kraken, as controlled by the Ironborn. Instead it is believed to be a type of Sea Serpent, but one that has developed tentacles around the mouth region. The shape of the creature supports this theory as is bears far more similarity to a snake than a squid, as does its size since it is estimated to be ten ships long in length - far larger than any kraken but close enough to some varieties of Sea Serpent. But like a kraken, it is well and truly capable of dragging a ship under the waves. There is no pattern to the carnage it causes, no preferred catch - leaving sailors to tremble and pray that it will not decide to come after them (though small craft will generally go ignored).

There have been several attempts to bring down the 'kraken' however, most launched by the Braavosi though with the occasional fleet from Northos or the Vale. All to this day have failed; the ships either torn apart by the 'kraken', rammed by the Flying Titan or sunk by a sudden storm. Even the finest whalers from Saloryson have failed to cause significant harm to the beast or to its companion. And attacks are few and far between regardless, for the cities do not want to bring down the wrath of the creature or its crew to their ports.

**The Isle of Graves and the Ancient Ones**

_'2nd Visenion, 245AC: It's too late, far too late now. The Ancients have seized the depths and even now prepare to assault this small chamber. Our defences and attempts to defeat them have been useless. We cannot get out, the way is shut. Prince Daeron is dead. The Shard remains undamaged. They are Coming. They are Coming. They are Comi-'  
\- Extract from the Diary of Jorgen Windblown, recovered from Slumber's Barrow on the Isle of Graves in 250AC_

There are many islands in the area of ocean known as the Slash, the dividing sea between Northos and Westeros. Ownership of these islands have often been roughly disputed between kingdoms, with Northos, the Riverlands and the Vale all making claims for extra land - and the possibility of extending power into the trade routes. Of the two that are currently under Riverland power (Andalblood and the Isle of Graves, though claims on Southpoint continue to be made), much is known in history - little of it good. Andalblood will be discussed elsewhere in this book, but the history of the Isle of Graves will be explored here.

For whatever mysterious reason, the Isle of Graves has always - since records began - been covered with tombstones. These stones vary in size and shape with no understood pattern to them, only that they might perhaps represent the buried's rank in life. But this is just a guess, for the runic language shared between the tombstones is impossible to decipher. Not only does it bare no resemblance to any language in the known world (even other runic based systems), but the knowledge of the language has been observed to erase itself over time. Obviously this makes understanding it impossible, leaving the inscriptions of the tombs as a mystery.

Attempts have also been made to discover the secret of the tombs through excavation of their innards. Whether through simple unearthing or delving into the depths of a great barrow (as with Prince Duncan Targaryen's tragic attempt), all these attempts have ended in horror. For the tombs meet underground. Underneath the island is a massive series of caves and tunnels, stretching not only under the isle itself but the ocean as well. It is suggested that they even extend into the Deep Dark, that primordial realm of demons far below the surface. The fates of the explorers certainly support this theory, as they bear a disturbing resemblance to the other attempts to dig too deep. And the rumoured presence of the 'Ancient Ones', spectres that haunt these dark tunnels do support this for that is a title the demons of the depths are often granted.

To this day the island is deserted of long term human life, with only a few species of animal (such as the flightless Emu) inhabiting the rock. Sailors regard it with superstition and ships will often make large detours to avoid venturing too close, a tactic that has caused many issues with the city of Freyport on the Riverlands coast.

 

**Blasta's Bonus Extra:**

**Excerpt from 'Animals of the Westerlands' by Maester Lionel**

**Knockers**

Among the many creatures of the depths, perhaps none are more feared than the elusive and cruel demons known as the 'Knockers' (other names include Snarks, Stone-Whisperers and Creepers). Known primarily for the fear they inspire in the Dwarven nations who will abandon an entire mine if a Knocker is discovered, facts about the beings are rare and often inaccurate.

The few eyewitness accounts of a Knocker describe them as tall, emaciated creatures that will be found crouching in a corner until roused. Their faces are oddly flat, with features that appear to have been forced backwards into the face. They have no lips or tongue to hide their goblin-like teeth and have blank white eyes (it is believed they are blind and rely on hearing to move about). Their skin is pale, but rough and dry to the touch (though this cannot be truly confirmed as no one has touched a Knocker and lived).

There are actually very few accounts of contact with a Knocker, as most of those involved perish during the incident or shortly after. For while the creature has surprising strength and extendable talons, the true threat comes from its ability to create prophecies. Those who are not torn in half or otherwise slain will have their deaths foretold by the demons, words that inevitably come true with no recorded incidents suggesting otherwise. Some of my colleagues have suggested that this ability functions as a curse rather than a prophecy, but this hypothesis appears to contradict two occurrences where a seer reported a change in fate for three unfortunate Dwarves.

Thankfully, Knockers are rare and rarely discovered. Only five have been found since the conquest, two in the same area and at the same time. The mines involved were sealed up with everything that the dwarven - or in one case human - nation involved could use for the purpose. Known locations include:

  * The Golden Tooth, border castle of the Westerlands.
  * Mossbank Mine in the Westerlands.
  * Boatmurdered, a former Dwarven castle in the Vale.
  * The Crenei Mine in Eldrin.
  * The Doomhollow Crypt in Erebos.
  * Dewbank Mine in Erebos.
  * Oakheart's mine in the Reach.
  * Possibly the Isle of Graves.



Despised and feared by all, Knockers are one of the foulest beings that mortals have ever encountered.

 _'One knock on the wall, your candle's out._  
_Two knocks on the wall, your boots are stuck._  
_Three knocks on the wall, your name is called._  
_Four knocks on the wall, your life is tolled.'_

 

**Titan's Extra 3:**

**An extract from ‘The History of the Jhokoonhai’ by Archmaester Barrish.**

Due large in part to their meticulous records, we know that the history of the Jhokoonhai stretches back hundreds of years, possibly even thousands; this is evident in some of their documents, which detail contracts made between them and Essosi shepherds, whose descendents would go on to found the Valyrian Freehold.

The Jhokoonhai permanently reside in Khazabhad, a great citadel nestled high in the Bone Mountains; its great walls are not built from stone, as more ignorant folk might like to think, but in fact are carved from the flesh and bone of the Jhogwin, colossal giants who are made entirely of rock. Whilst some may find this strange, the fact that Khazabhad has never been taken by an outside force just goes to show the creativity and ingenuity of the Jhokoonhai.

Primarily, the Jhokoonhai act as hunters of beasts and other monsters, and art which they have honed to perfection and made their own; when on a hunt, a Jhokoonhai not only wields his or her mastered weapon [1] but also makes great use of the various schools of magic, as well as alchemy, to bring down their quarry.

The Jhokoonhai accept all who are willing to undergo a rigorous set of trials (Notorious for their difficulty) into their fold, no matter the race or religion; indeed, included among their numbers are R’hllori pyromancers, Norvosi Bearded Priests, Braavosi merchants, Qohorik smiths, Qarthene Warlocks, Summer Island sailors, Ironborn reavers and Northern wargs. Their membership is not limited to humans either, as evident by the fact that Children of the Forest, Giants, Winged Men and even (If rumors are to be believed) a few Others are amongst their ranks.

Due to their geographical situation, the Jhokoonhai have also had a part to play in the various Essosi wars, particularly where the Valyrian Freehold is concerned; the old Ghiscari Empire, the principalities of the Rhoynar, the Andal Kingdoms, all used a great amount of wealth in order to hire members of the Jhokoonhai to relinquish the riders of their dragons. Despite raking up an impressive amount of bodies, as well as raiding hatcheries [2], they were unable to halt the Freehold’s advance for too long.

Before the Valyrians could punish the Jhokoonhai for their defiance and burn Khazabhad to ash, the centre of their continent-wide empire was wiped out in an eruption of fourteen volcanoes. The Century of Blood that followed, whilst horrific for others, proved to be a boon for them; money flowed into their coffers, and soon they amassed enough wealth to fund a small kingdom for decades.

As long as there are monsters and people afraid of them, the Jhokoonhai will remain…

[1] - Traditionally, a weapon of the Jhokoonhai is forged from star metal and engraved with various runes.

[2] - It is said that they keep a few breeding pairs of dragons.

 

**Titan's Extra 4:**

**Species Guide: Griffon**

**Appearance**

The appearance of a griffon can vary greatly from each member of the species; traditionally, however, a griffon’s appearance is a combination of a large bird of prey and a big cat, such a lion or tiger. Their feathered wings, when fully outstretched, are longer than a horse’s body, and their hooked beaks can easily sever a man’s limb: a griffon’s claws, which are reminiscent of a hawk's talons, are kept sharp by regular scoring against stone.

Primarily, griffons are either grey, brown or black in colour, with some even having spots on their coats; red and white varieties also exist in the world, though these are much rarer than their common-coloured counterparts, and can fetch a high price.

**Behaviour**

They are voracious predators, flying out for miles to hunt from their mountain lairs. Griffons them swoop down on their prey, screaming war cries as they come. The cry of a Griffon is often enough to send enemies running.

For the Griffon, this is an ideal situation as it prefers its meals on the run, and alive. They then continue to attack until no opponent is left moving. Survivors of Griffon attacks often have dreams of being hunted down and rent limb from limb for years afterward.

Despite being large and monstrous creatures, Griffons have reputations as noble beasts. This is in part due to their proud and regal bearing – Griffons are not ravenous and frenetic like Manticores. Instead a Griffon strikes with swift and precise grace, its motion poised and controlled.

Yet this elegance in no way undermines its deadliness, for a Griffon is more than capable of using its talons and razor beak to rip a foe apart. Skilled and efficient fighters, Griffons do not kill indiscriminately, although they show no reluctance when hunting or protecting their territory. They are fierce and merciless, but never cruel.

Griffons also have a legendarily-fierce rivalry with the wyvern species, due large in part to the tendency of wyverns to steal griffon eggs from their nests; sightings have been made of griffons and wyverns fighting to the death.

**Griffins as Mounts**

As a result of a Griffon's possession of a noble temperament and an impressive intelligence, they can be trained as loyal and deadly mounts. For anyone to have the slightest hope of mastering a Griffon, the beast must be captured and trained while young, forcing a bond that only death can shatter.

Griffons are prized for their sharp claws, their powerful beaks which rival Greatswords in their deadliness, their excellent reactions and high overall resilience. Most surprising, however, is the way they can easily bypass enemy parries while staying out of reach themselves, something only the most skillful warriors can achieve after decades of training.

Numerous breeding grounds exist for the griffons in the Vale, Stormlands and Crownlands; the Griffon’s Roost, seat of House Connington, is considered by many to be the greatest of the breeding grounds located in Westeros.

**Species Guide: Hym**

**Appearance**

When Hyms choose to reveal themselves, they take the appearance of a tall, shadow-clad human silhouette with long, sharp claws.

**Behaviour**

Whilst some might compare these beings to Battlefield Spirits, in reality they are quite different. Monsters most commonly claim innocents as their victims: tardy merchants, reckless children and travelers who wander into dark woodlands out of misplaced curiosity. None of the above need fear hyms, however. These wraiths only latch onto particularly despicable individuals who have committed some unspeakable crime. To all others, they remain completely invisible. The Faith portrays Hyms in a positive light as agents of both the Father and the Stranger, deliverers of death and justice.

**Notable Victims of a Hym’s Torment**

**Blood and Cheese** \- Murderers of six year-old Prince Jaehaerys, firstborn son of King Aegon II and heir to the Iron Throne.

 **Maegor I ‘The Cruel’ Targaryen** \- Killed hundreds of men and women when he burned the Sept of Remembrance.

 **Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch** \- Responsible for the slaughter of untold innocents.

 **Aerys II ‘The Mad’ Targaryen** \- Burned an untold amount of people alive with wildfire. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, the Battle of the Golden Tooth begins!
> 
> The Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean references in my first extra are entirely intentional. :D
> 
> The Knockers are a nod to the creature's of the same name from the Spiderwick Chronicles, though I've changed a lot of detail. Boatmurdered is the notorious Dwarf Fortress from...dwarf fortress. The game. (Hooray, the Circus is here!)
> 
> The second set of extras are by The Titan's Chronicler as before:
> 
> The Jhokoonhai are inspired from the Witcher series titular characters and the Legends version of Mandalorians. Hyms are also from the Witcher.


	49. Kevan II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flash, Slash, Glisten and Gash!

  **A High Fantasy Planetos Part 49**

Kevan Lannister

Outside the Golden Tooth, Border-Castle of the Westerlands - 19th Garthtide 299AC

We met in the centre of a great field; Edmure Justman with his squire and Lord Piper, I with my own squire and Lord Marbrand. Apart from the squire I had seen all of them before at Old Hoster's investment as Hand. Piper looked the same, but Lord Edmure's hair had begun to grey and the skin around his eyes to tighten. The great sword Sevenstar was sheathed at Justman's side, contrasting sadly with my own plain steel. Neither of our groups was pleased to see the other, none of us even considering descending from our horses or boars to offer pleasantries. In the far distances both our armies looked on, their eyes presumably locked in an eternal staring contest. The Riverland forces complete with Mammoths and Water Witches, facing the Westerland men bolstered by thousands of Sellwords.

Once again I cursed Edmure Justman's foresight to force a battle here. Both Dwarven-Kings had flatly refused to send their forces anywhere near a Knocker's lair, regardless of stakes in the conflict or relations with either side. That refusal had neutered my army, tearing away any chance of gaining a heavy infantry and most of our chance of getting magic on our side. Aside from a few earth magicians spared by my brother and ten trolls from Hornvale, all my men had to rely on were hopefully better equipment and knowledge of the area. That was why this truce was important, not to turn aside the Riverland army but to discover any weaknesses in it that could be exploited. My brother's plan was simple: crush or turn the Riverland army as necessary. They could not be allowed to align with Northos or the Vale.

"My Lord Edmure" I began, "My Lord brother wishes to ask why you have brought a army to our border?" The point for my demand was threefold. To remind the Riverlords whose lands these were to drive them into fear. To imply that he was present to break their morale. And to paint ourselves as innocent in Cersei's actions and therefore portray the Justmans and their ilk as the aggressors. My brother had told me to enforce that belief so that the retaking of the Vale and the Riverlands could be quicker.

_And it will need to be quick, now that Renly has risen up against us. The rumours he spreads of Cersei and Jaime - surely born from jealousy, neither of them are **that** foolish._

I imagined that my brother had exploded once word of the lies reached him. It was impossible to blame him, I would have doubtless been livid if any of my children had been accused of the crime (though Janei was too young to even understand what sex was).

"You know exactly why I am here Lannister" spat Edmure Justman, "To defend my people and lands from Dwarven treachery." I feigned confusion.

"And what treachery would that be, my Lord?" I asked, "If you refer to the 'incident' in King's Landing, might I remind you that no Westermen were involved in that? Casterly Rock only received word a day before you did; how could we have been involved in what happened - why would we be involved?" Both the Rivermen scoffed.

"We would be fools to believe that after your brother's actions in the Rebellion dwarf." said Lord Piper, "Even the Dornish fought: your brother just hid under a rock until the war was already won and every other faction bloodied. The whole realm knows he's power mad! Why else would-"

"Thank you, my Lord" cut in Edmure, to forestall the coming rant. "As Lord Piper said, Ser Kevan; it is a proven fact that Lannisters cannot be trusted. It is inconceivable that a boy of fourteen could have planned this on his own and Stannis Baratheon has always had a reputation for sticking to his duty." He grimaced. "But I am not cruel, or unfair. Your men have had no part in this affair - they should not die just because of your brother's madness."

"My brother is not mad, my Lord" I stated, barely containing a growl. "Why would he murder your father when his daughter was already Queen? When his grandson was already heir? Even if my brother was as mad as you say, would he not simply wait until King Robert was killed by his own lifestyle?" The Riverlords suddenly looked unsure of themselves and I knew that I was gaining ground.

"There would be no strategic value in killing Lord Hoster or King Eddard, my lords" said Marbrand, taking over from me for a minute. "Regardless of what you believe about Lord Tywin's desires, he is not a fool. He himself is livid over this breaking of Guest Right and rides to King's Landing as we speak."

_Shit. That, Addam was what I was trying not to tell them..._

"Lord Tywin is not with you" repeated Edmure, "I had...suspected when he didn't attend this parley himself but..." He screwed up his face in thought. "What are your demands, Ser? Doubtless capitulation to the boy king and orders to turn on Northos." The hostility in his voice was unmistakable.

I tried not to mirror it: "Nothing so forceful. All my brother asks is that you return to neutrality until a trial can be called to ascertain guilt and the...situation in the south is dealt with. Plus of course, the allowance for the crown to move troops through your territory."

_Because the backing down of the Riverlands won't necessarily cause Northos or the Vale to do likewise._

"Allowance to move troops through our lands?" Lord Piper scoffed, "No doubt you mean, 'allow Lords loyal to me to take possession of your castles and lands'. Hellpits! King Renly would offer us justice without any requirements. I still say we declare for him!"

"Renly is a usurper attempting to steal his nephew's crown" Marbrand said, "There's no honour or glory in fighting for a usurper Piper!" But Lord Piper smiled.

"Was not Robert Baratheon himself a usurper? Was not Aegon the Conquerer another?" he crowed, "And even with those truths, perhaps the crown _is not your nephew's by blood right_?"

"Those are lies" I growled, "There is no proof of them; truthfully there is evidence against - does not Cassana Baratheon take after her father?"

"Every Baratheon in history has been of black hair and blue eye" pointed out Edmure, "Joffrey, Tommen and Lanna are not."

"I would imagine that the children's features are a result of Dwarven blood mixing with human blood" I replied, "Our bloodlines have not mixed before, nor has any Dwarven blood entered into the Baratheon inheritance. And perhaps, also their looks are a result of them being born away from Storm's End; otherwise every man in the Stormlands would have the Baratheon look by now."

The Riverlords responded with silence. Overhead, the sun continued its passage towards noon. We would have to conclude this truce shortly, else our men begin to demand their midday rations. Fighting on an empty stomach was never a good idea, nor was forcing an army to be hyper-focused for too long or their attentions would wander to drink or whores.

Finally, Edmure spoke up once more. "You make many good points my Lords" he said, "But I cannot agree to all your terms." He paused. "If you agree to move your army away from any of my borders and swear to see a trial done of all suspects - Lannister or otherwise - I will do likewise. I have no wish to see Riverland or Westerland blood spilt today." He paused again. "But I must deny any prospect at crown troops moving through my dominion, or any chance of Riverland forces supporting you."

"And Northos or the Vale? Will you allow them to pass through your territories, my Lord?" I inquired.

"In all honesty, it's likely they've already in them" Edmure stated, "But I will not consider ordering them to leave or turning on them. Kinslaying is a crime in the sight of all Gods; the Old, the Seven, the Valyrian and the Rhoynar. Other Lords and Kings have as much right to justice as I."

Marbrand growled. "That just gives you time to reinforce yourself while we get bloodied up dealing with Renly!" he shouted. "Coward! Craven! Let's see you fight a real man, boy - let's say we fight single combat now!" The boy said nothing.

"Addam" I quietly said, to dissuade him. Despite whatever faith I had in the man, risking everything over single combat - especially when the foe had Valyrian Steel - was a fool's move. I straightened to face Lord Justman and seized the reins of my horse. "I must refuse your terms " I stated, "They are unacceptable to the Crown and to House Lannister. Prepare yourself for battle."

As we rode off, I half expected to hear the young lord call out for another chance at peace. I half prayed for him to do so, for I could tell that any victory would be very hard won. But no voice came as we rode on, leaving only the sound of the horses and the jeering of the armies.

_And so it begins._

\----------------

From the hillside to the southeast of the Golden Tooth, I could see that Lord Justman had placed his cavalry on each flank of his army, leaving ten mammoths and their riders arranged in the middle. Clearly his intent was to have the beasts charge in and crush the centre of my lines, thereby breaking my army into easier to destroy halves. Thankfully I had foreseen this and so broken my army into three - two groups of infantry to match up against each flank of the Riverland cavalry and a third group of my own horse riders, positioned to swoop in when given the order. I hoped the mammoths - who were known to be very difficult to steer - would charge through the gap between the groups; especially since the Greystarks (presumably the providers of the mammoths) were not apparently present in the army. I had positioned my few trolls and their handlers on the inward sides of the groups however, just in case. Just in case...  
  
_Your move, Justman. Don't disappoint me..._  
  
The sound of a distant horn and the trumpeting of mammoths begun the battle. As if in one movement, six of the giant beasts charged across the field; the animals driven wild by alcohol and anger. With my Myrish spyglass I could see my infantry frantically attempting to get out of the way, except the trolls which roared and stomped towards the beasts with clubs raised...  
  
Two of the mammoths missed my lines. Four of them did not. Pike, Shield and man alike were crushed under tusk and snout and the weight of the animals. The order of both lines was pulverised, only the outer edges escaping damage. I saw men falling by the dozens to little avail. Four of the trolls provided by my brother were slaughtered, one being impaled by two tusks at once and slammed into another of its kind. They only succeeded in turn to bring down two of their foes, though in the chaos of battle it looked as if perhaps another had fallen to the infantry by sheer luck. It was worse than I had predicted, which meant further trouble for when my true plan could begin. Just as long as the Earth Mages could hold out in the van - which thankfully they seemed to be doing with the aid of one of the two remaining trolls. All I needed to do was for the Rivermen to overreach...  
  
The Riverlords cavalry crashed into the infantry lines and broke what remained in an instant. Sellswords and Westerosi alike were hacked apart by the horse riders, or impaled on lances, or brought down by the one remaining mammoth that no one wished to engage in its primal fury. On the Riverlords side I saw House Bracken's banner fall, but this was met by the death (I presumed) of Lord Lydden on mine - when riders smashed through his guardsmen to hack him apart. And still it was not time, still the wait continued...  
  
_Just a little further..._  
  
The screams of the dying rose up in a mighty chorus. "Kevan?" asked Addam, "Is it time? Kevan?" A few cavalry still lagged behind the others. "Kevan?" A troll smashed aside a line of horses to engage the last mammoth. "Kevan!"  
  
The last rider crossed my invisible line. "Now!" I shouted and raised my sword. A deep thundering roar suddenly boomed out over the battlefield, an ancient sound of glory and death. A Dwarven Battle Horn. "Charge!" As one I and my cavalry raced towards the back of the right flank of the enemy. The Dwarven Horn continued to bellow and as per my orders was met by the sound of rumbling from the very earth itself. A few of the enemy riders who had been turning to engage my army turned again to face the source, a long stretch of land between them and the rest of their army. A few unlucky men were therefore standing upon this line when the earth tore itself in two under the command of my mages; rending it into a deep chasm into which men and horses tumbled into. Many of the mages collapsed from the effort, but they were in no danger for that was when my cavalry slammed into the side of the Rivermen.  
  
In an instant the tables had turned, the enemy riders now being forced to go on the defensive lest they be forced backwards into the chasm to certain doom. The smell of blood and death was sending all side's mounts insane, horses and boars alike being driven into bloodlust and fear. I struggled to control my own steed as I swung a Piper knight from his saddle before urging my horse to leap over a fallen troll. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the infantry of the Riverlands had now marched to the other side of the chasm, but I smiled knowing that they could do nothing to assist their brethren. More and more corpses were appearing on the battlefield, but I was sure that the number of casualties on my side was far less now than my enemy's. Victory was sure to be for our side-  
  
And then a great cry came up from the Riverlords: "Flood the chasm!" yelled Lord Edmure Justman, "Release the River!"  
  
_The river? But the Red Fork is miles-_  
  
It was the sound of the Seven Hells that came to my ears then, as the foul Water Witches wrenched a typhoon of water from some hidden place and plunged it into the chasm created by my brother's men. And the battle turned once more. From the new lake, tendrils and tentacles of water emerged and began to capture my forces; dragging them into the pool to drown - men, horses, boars - a troll had its club ripped out of hand before three tentacles tore it apart before it even reached the lake. I saw the banners of Houses Lefford and Brax fall then and as my horse too was wrenched out from under me I realised we had failed. The victory was the Riverlords.  
  
"Addam!" I shouted, "Addam, sound the retreat!" But there was no answering Horn, only the sound of crying and yelling. I pulled myself to my feet and stumbled in the direction of the Marbrand banner. I had to fight infantry as I went, for by some foul magic they had crossed over the river to engage my collapsed army.  
  
_Get away from the river._  
  
"My Lord, look!" cried a voice. I ignored it and stumbled on, collapsing on top of a fallen Westerland man. My legs ached with infernal pain. I tasted blood in my mouth.  
  
_Find a horse. Find a boar. You need to..._  
  
"Capture him. He's more use to us alive than dead." And before I could turn around, the butt of an axe summoned me into unconsciousness.

 

**Extras 49:**

**Extract from 'Battles of the Great War' by Maester Jonnel of the Northern Citadel**

**The Battle of the Golden Tooth**

**  
Participating Factions:**

  * House Lannister of Casterly Rock 
    * House Marbrand of Ashemark
    * House Lefford of the Golden Tooth
    * House Lannister of the Golden Crag (Heir's Seat)
    * House Banefort of the Banefort
    * House Brax of Hornvale
    * House Lydden of Deep Den
    * Castamere (Controlled by Kevan Lannister)
  * House Justman of Oldstones 
    * House Piper of Pinkmaiden
    * House Vance of Wayfarer's Rest
    * House Tully of Riverrun
    * House Bracken of Stone Hedge
    * House Blackwood of Raventree Hall
    * House Frey of Freyport
    * House Garin of the Stoneship
    * House Selka of Barrowbridge



**Commanders:**

  * Ser Kevan Lannister
  * Lord Edmure Justman



**The Battle:**  
  
The first true battle of the Great War, the Battle of the Golden Tooth took place slightly west of the eponymous castle on the 19th day of Garthtide, 299AC. It was a defensive battle, waged between the forces of House Justman and House Lannister. The latter group were the attacking force, whose primary aim was to prevent an alliance between the Riverland forces and those of the Vale and Northos. The other group's aim was to defend their own territory and buy time for the other armies to reach the south. Capturing potential hostages was also an aim of both sides, particularly Lords and powerful magic users.  
  
Prior to the battle, the men of the Riverlands had constructed a mighty wood and stone barricade approximately two miles west of the Golden Tooth leaving a large field as the only thing separating the two armies. Workmen had also secretly diverted the Red Fork closer to the battlefield to allow the Water Witches east access to its power. The formation of the Riverland lines was as follows: In the centre a line of seven mammoths from the Greystark herds (the Greystarks were not present on the battlefield for unknown reasons), all equipped with riders and elements of armour to primarily cover the neck and the soft parts of the leg. On the right flank was arranged the cavalry of Houses Piper, Vance and Bracken (commanded by Lord Piper) with the left flank containing the cavalry of Houses Tully, Frey and Blackwood (commanded by Lord Tully). Behind them were arranged the various infantries (including archers) of the Riverland Houses, plus House Garin's Water Witches in the left van.  
  
The Westerland forces were arranged rather differently. Kevan Lannister had divided his host into three hosts. Two of these - mainly comprised of sellsword infantry - were separated by a gap which it was hoped the mammoths would charge through. On the inward facing sides of each of these flanks stood six armoured trolls, three to each side. Archers were also heavily present in these hosts to bring down the mammoths and their riders, as well as several earth mages. The third host was slightly to the south of the other two and comprised of the cavalry (horses and giant boars) of Houses Marbrand, Banefort and Brax - plus Kevan Lannister's own forces from Castamere. A force of 1000 infantry had also been left in reserve at the Golden Tooth in case the battle turned against the Westermen.  
  
The first act of the battle was a charge of six of the mammoths at the Westermen lines, followed by the majority of the cavalry of the Riverlands. Two of the angry beasts would miss the enemy lines, heading straight through the gap to be eventually blasted apart by the ballistas and defences of the actual castle. Four of them would impact the infantry lines however, taking a tremendous toll in blood and bone. Four of the six trolls died to the mammoths, only succeeding in turn to bring down two of the beasts themselves. The infantry lines would take down a third mammoth by impaling it's soft belly with pikes but paid a horrible price to do so. And using the disorganised mess that the Westermen had collapsed into after the impact of the mammoths to their advantage, the Riverland Cavalry slammed into both the flanks. Relatively few of the horsemen died in this first impact, though Lord Willem Tully was thrown from his horse by a surviving troll and hacked apart by sellswords. Several horses were also driven into a panic by the smell of the troll and mammoth blood, forcing the knights riding them to dismount.  
  
On the whole however, the battle was progressing excellently for the Rivermen, with the infantry lines in full collapse. Many sellswords were now openly fleeing the battlefield and the enemy cavalry was too far away to assist. The death of Lord Jonos Bracken (also by a troll, though the creature was immediately brought down by his men in vengeance) did little to lighten this fact. Lord Lewys Lydden fell with a scream to a Riverland knight, his son Robert quickly following him to the grave via a mammoth's feet. Only the Earth Mages continued to hold out, flinging massive boulders about with a flick of their hands. But Kevan Lannister had one trick left to play.  
  
Sounding a horn as a unknown signal, the Lannister Knight commanded the mages to rend the earth apart. As one they did so, creating a long chasm across the field in front of them - separating the Riverland cavalry from the rest of their army. With the infantry unable to intervene, Kevan Lannister then ordered the Westermen cavalry to engage the right flank of the Riverland cavalry from behind. The effect was catastrophic. The order of the horse riders collapsed instantly, Knights and Lords alike being surrounded by cavalry and renewed infantry. Casualties began to favour the Westermen, with the only notable death on their side being Lord Addam Marbrand when he had attempted to kill Lord Piper. The few Rivermen that tried to make a break for it were either stabbed or pushed into the chasm by their cheering enemies. Edmure Justman's infantry and archers advanced to the other side of the hole, sending waves of arrows into the enemy to little avail.  
  
That was until one of the Water Witches had an ingenious idea. Taking control of the diverted Red Fork, they rose it into the air and diverted it again - into the Earth Mage's chasm. With it so much closer now they were able to fully control it, creating tentacles of the water to grab unsuspecting men and pull them under the water. Pikes and swords alike were no use against liquid and quickly the Riverlords began to seize control of the battlefield once more: the cavalry and infantry alike of the Westermen buckling under the power of the river. The infantry of the Riverlands also charged across the suddenly solid water to hack at their enemies from behind. Lord Andros Brax and Lord Leo Lefford fell in this final stage of the battle, as did the last troll. Perhaps Kevan Lannister could have forced a win on his side with the aid of the men in reserve, but he was unable to. Seeing they had lost, Lord Banefort bellowed a retreat and led the remaining cavalry (plus a few lucky infantry) towards the Golden Tooth and it's high walls; refusing to offer further battle. Seeing how damaged his own forces were, Edmure Justman did not order a pursuit.  
  
**Casualties:**

  * Forces of House Lannister: 
    * 10,000 men dead, 2,000 captured.
    * 80 Earth Mages dead.
    * 6 River Trolls dead.
    * Lord Lydden (and son), Lord Marbrand, Lord Brax and Lord Lefford dead.
    * Ser Kevan Lannister Captured.
  * Forces of House Justman: 
    * 8,000 men dead, no captives.
    * 2 Water Witches dead.
    * 5 Mammoths dead.
    * Lord Tully, Lord Vance and Lord Bracken dead.



**Result:**

  * Tactical and Strategic Justman Victory. 
    * Invasion of the Riverlands prevented.
    * Siege of the Golden Tooth Begins.
    * Kevan Lannister falls into a coma.
    * Lordship of Deep Den cast into doubt.
    * Passageway to the south clear for Northos and the Vale.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took forever.


End file.
